#someone said ‘you look cozy.’ I was before I was driven out into the cold

[gyuphorias]

Hii can i request " was that your first kiss? " with seungcheol please? Thank you!! And i love your work btw!!

thank u lovely!! i'm glad you enjoy my writing!! <3

(also... me intending to write only a little bit and writing 1.2k anyways.... wow...)

if you had to be completely honest with yourself, you don't remember how you ended up here — a lonesome apartment building roof in the middle of the night. you, of course, remember showing up at a party hosted by your friend mingyu, drinking a little, chatting, drinking some more.

the chilly night air bites at you, even though your thick sweater, and though your mind is a little hazy, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to put any semblance of logic together. it's a university student's apartment, meaning it's cheap and small; with so many people shoved into one cramped space, heat was inevitable and it had likely driven you up to the roof.

the stairwell door opens behind you and you look over your shoulder, going stiff when it's seungcheol who appears in the threshold. he's a little red in the face, his alcohol-induced blush creeping up his neck and across his cheeks and nose. that paired with the cute cardigan he's wearing tonight, he looks endearing, like warmth personified.

"thought i'd find you up here," he says as he approaches you. it's only until he's draping a weight over your shoulders that you realize he brought a blanket up here with him. "too loud?"

you nod, silently relishing the way his shoulder presses warmly against your own as he wraps the other half of the blanket around him. it's a small touch to share and you're sure he doesn't notice it, but you do and that's what matters most to you.

"yeah... and too hot. don't know what mingyu was thinking when he invited half the school to his apartment when it can barely fit the whole friend group."

seungcheol laughs and his shoulder trembles against you. just that makes you join him in his quiet laughter, even though what you said hadn't been that funny, just the truth (mingyu's apartment is almost minuscule and it can barely fit half the friend group, you were being generous in your original statement).

with amusement still laced in his voice, seungcheol speaks again. "you're right. joshua and jeonghan have been trying to convince him to let someone else host parties from now on, but he hasn't budged yet."

the conversation peters out, the lull nothing short of comforting, welcome. out of all of your friends, you feel the most comfortable with seungcheol because as loud and childishly annoying he can be sometimes, he knows how to easily match your energy. silences like this are always cozy, some personal little pocket of serenity; you don't feel obligated to speak to fill the gaps and he lets it hang easily between you.

minutes pass by and your sole focus is on the city that spans out before you. most buildings have gone dark for the night with the exception of a few unlucky office workers burning the midnight oil. street lamps and car headlights are nothing more than pinpricks of light on the grid of the city below you. it's a strange kind of beautiful you only recognize in moments like this.

you turn your head a little to glance at seungcheol, nearly jumping when you realize he's looking directly at you. you turn your head fully to look back at him, noses brushing just a bit. his eyes are wistful, you think is the right word: soft and somewhat watery, yearning.

his hand reaches for yours and you let his fingers, cold and calloused, press into your palm. without speaking, he leans in a little, but gives you a look that asks what he needs to without breaking the atmosphere: is this okay? you nod and then meet him halfway because you can't resist.

your lips meet and it's everything you've imagined it to be, though you've fantasized about kissing seungcheol more than you'd care to admit. and though you think it feels nice, the warmth of him against you in a way that is so intimate, you think it also happens in a way that feels so inexperienced. you aren't sure what to do with your hands, how to really convey to him that you're kissing him back, but he doesn't pull away in disgust or embarrassment, so it doesn't seem to bother him all that much.

when he finally does back away, staying close enough that his nose bumps against yours, he's smiling almost bashfully, looking a little flushed (moreso than just being a little tipsy).

"if you don't mind me asking..." (here it comes, you think.) "was that your first kiss?" he asks, his eyebrows pulled together a little.

to most people, they'd be embarrassed, maybe angry at the insinuation that they're bad at kissing, having been asked if it was their first time. but it's seungcheol and he's him, so it doesn't feel malicious at all. rather, he seems to have gone even softer at the edges.

you nod, glancing away. even if he's not mocking you, there's still that little piece of you that feels embarrassed about just having shared your very first kiss with the boy of your dreams. "yeah... was it bad? i'm sorry if i-"

he holds your hand in earnest now, lacing his fingers entirely between yours and drawing your gaze back to him. he's smiling a little toothily and it really makes him look like an endearing little boy.

"no, no, i promise it wasn't bad. i just... know you mentioned once that you haven't really dated anyone before and i thought... you know... that meant you hadn't kissed anyone either."

you let your eyes fall back on him, a little surprised that he remembered you said that. it had been a while ago, no more than a few months ago, during one of mingyu's little kickbacks. the boys had started bringing up relationships and things, and you'd inevitably been asked if you were dating anyone. it had ultimately turned into a conversation about how you'd never dated anyone ever, the boys entirely surprised at your answer.

"you remembered that?" it honestly almost makes you tear up; seungcheol has always made a point of listening to everything you say and this just proves that.

he nods, flexing his fingers against your hand. "'course i did. if i hadn't made it abundantly clear, i really like you."

you laugh a little, letting your forehead lean against his own. he pulls his hand from yours, only to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into him, his shoulders shaking a little as he joins you in your laughter.

"i really like you too, cheol," you answer, leaning into his warmth.

you chat a little more, just like that in each other's embrace, setting up a date for the following weekend and deciding who in the friend group decided to place bets on how long it would take for the two of you to get together (you decide definitely jeonghan, mingyu, and seungkwan because they live for drama). when the silence finally washes back in, seungcheol looks at you, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"so... since you just had your first kiss... you wanna get some more practice in?"

"you're such a menace!"

you almost tell him to wait until you go on your brunch date next weekend, but you're not too inclined to pass up his offer. you'll get your revenge one of these days, just not right now.

#seungcheol x reader #s.coups x reader #svt x reader #s.coups fluff #svt fluff #🌙 — talking to the moon #🌑 — new moon #🌑 — svt

[eggs-love-loki]

Fire alarm got set off, had to go outside in my pjs and fuzzy pink robe with my teddy bear 🙃

#okay I didn’t have to bring teddy but if there’s a chance an alarm isn’t a drill teddy comes with #she’s my 21 year long best friend and she is absolutely the one thing I’m prioritizing #someone said ‘you look cozy.’ I was before I was driven out into the cold #also most bedrooms and living rooms/bathrooms don’t have flashing lights #so the alternative that’s designed to wake us up in the event that you’re sleeping #is a modified alarm. instead of the loud ‘beep beep’ of normal fire alarms #it’s a non stop ear piercing pitch that’s about six times louder than the traditional alarms (I can compare since those are in the hallway) #like when it starts it sounds like a tinnitus kind of ringing but it never stops and never changes #just screams at you #and it hurts and makes me shake cause it’s so bad #and like I need shoes and a mask and my keys it takes a minute to follow protocol and get out and the noise is so bad 😭 #some rooms on the first floor do have the flashing lights for accessibility purposes #I wish they just all had them

[murphslass]

Nervous Much Pt.4

Pt.1 > Pt.2 >> Pt.3

Warnings: fluff, romance, smut, daddy kink

A couple weeks had passed of your relationship with Negan. He was so sweet and took you on lots of dates. He also was big on PDA wherever you guys were out. Admittedly you felt nervous when he would do things so publicly with no hesitation but soon grew fond of it. However, you guys didn’t have sex yet. Mostly because everytime you two had gotten close to it, something came up. One time you were interrupted by coworkers in the back room. Another was when your mom had called during foreplay at your house. Either way it was frustrating and you were more upset with it then Negan was. Currently you were out with him at a restaurant eating dinner. He saw you were grumpy and tried to cheer you up.

“So tomorrow I know we both get a couple nights off from the bar. And I was wondering if you’d be up for a little sleepover.”

“What are we five?”

You laugh and Negan just says a sarcastic remark.

“I’m being serious. I want to host us a beautiful night together.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me what shall the host have in store?”

“Well, I was hoping to watch some random horror movie, provide some delicious snacks, and get close under the stars.”

“Wow that does sound like a lovely night.”

He smiles and goes on about how he’s gonna show you a great time and how it’s something you’ll never forget. You both finished your lunch and let Negan lead you back to his bike. He took you home and continued being cocky.

“Trust me baby. I’m gonna blow that pretty little mind of yours.”

“I’m counting on it.”

You wink at him before being pulled into a deep kiss. His hands holding your body close and his beard scratching your skin lightly. You couldn’t get enough of him especially when he was kissing you. His touch had you addicted.

“I’ll be seeing you tonight. Were something comfortable.”

“You’ve got it.”

You say as you walk into your home and hear Negan’s bike pull out of the driveway. You couldn’t stop smiling and felt excited for the night Negan had planned. You prepared yourself with a cozy nap in hopes not to fall asleep early and wore comfortable pajamas with a surprise underneath. This might be the night that you finally go all the way. You shook away your nerves as Negan picked you up in his Chevy Corvette. It was an extremely beautiful car and different to see him from his bike. He talked about his car before but he mentioned that it was only driven rarely. It made you feel special when you saw he wanted you to ride in it. He even showed off a bit as the road was clear and he sped up. You giggled as you watched Negan get excited like he was a kid. Soon he pulled into his studio apartment and you enjoyed how nice he kept the place. Everything was vintage styled yet gave a modern feel to it. His color scheme was just like his hair, black and gray. You admired the window and the spiral staircase. It was super nice and really fitted Negan’s style.

“Your place is amazing! I can’t believe we haven’t come here.”

“Well my place was actually super fucking messy and I needed to clean up.”

“Well I appreciate that.”

You say as Negan approached you and held both your hands.

“Does my girl care for something to drink? I’ve

got soda, water, juice, or if ya feeling like coffee I could brew some.”

“Just a soda is fine.”

“Coming right up!”

He says as he makes his way toward his kitchen. You walk over to admire the view from the window and saw the lights of the city. It was so nice to see. You felt him behind you and see him place your drink on the dining table. His arms go around your waist and kissed behind your ear. At first he was playful and left quick pecks but he picked a certain spot and slowly began nibbling. You moan and his arms pull you flush against him.

“You’re more breathtaking than the view.”

He whispered between kisses and left marks on you. You turn towards him and got pinned against the cold glass. His lips find yours and you moan against him. His hands felt over your body and paid most attention toward your curves, your hands held onto his shoulders as he began to grow rougher. You felt him tugging at the material of your shirt and pull away to rip it off your body. He does the same with his shirt and throws it on the ground. His lips hungrily kisses down your neck and your leg being pulled to his hip. You bit your lip as he leaned down to pull away your bra and suck onto your nipples. Your head rested against the window as your hands go to his hair.

“I have to have you Y/N. Right now.”

He said in a growl as reached remove your shorts. You didn’t respond as you kicked off the restricting clothes. Negan smirked down to see your cute panties.

“Ooh look at that, you wear these just for me baby?”

“Maybe…”

You whispered as he teased your panty line with his finger tips. He flashed a cocky smile as your hips moved to try and get him to touch you more. His fingers slidding down into your panties and you whimper as he massages your aching clit.

“Damn it’s like a fucking ocean down there.”

“I can’t help it. You feel so good.”

He continues and goes to tease your entrance, he enjoyed hearing your voice as he touches you. His fingers speed up making you feel stimulation. Your hand going to grab onto his wrist. He moaned at your arousal and pulled away to loosen his tight pants. You look down to see the large buldge against his dark boxers. You reached to push down and saw the soft dark curls against his pelvis. His cock sprung out of his boxers and you could see the tip was flush red with desire.

“Hold on tight baby.”

He said as he lifted you and wrapped your legs onto his hips. Your hands held onto his shoulders and one arm held your waist and the other shoving your underwear to the side and slip into you. Both of you moaned out at the feel of each other. His breath ragged as he gazed at your flushed face.

“Oh shit baby. You feel better than I imagined.”

He smirked as he began thrusting into you. You quiver at the pleasure that shot through your body. He pressed you firmly against the glass and moved his hips harshly. Your arms clung onto his body and you couldn’t help the noises escaping you.

“Fuck yeah baby, keep on letting me know how good my cock feels.”

He growled against your neck and his grip held you close as he went deeper.

“Negan, it feels so good. Don’t stop please don’t stop.”

He let out a breathy chuckle and kissed along your breasts. The began to feel overwhelming as his fingers went to circle along your swollen clit. Your nails dung into his skin and thighs shaked along his body. His deep groans filled your ears and his arms brought your legs to wrap onto him.

“Yes, Negan yes! Make me come. Please babe I’m close.”

He smirked and went harder the last few thrusts before you came undone. He smiled as he saw you experience him and soon he finished inside you. Your body fell limb against him and he laughed as he carried you to the couch.

“You enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah. You were amazing.”

“Here let me grab a rag so you can clean yourself up sweet thing.”

You kissed his cheek as he got up to grab a wash cloth from the bathroom. You did sneak a few glances of his cute ass. Making his way toward you he hands you a towel. You cleaned up and had Negan holding you in his arms. He held you in his lap before getting up to find you a spare shirt you could wear. He slipped on a pair of loose sweats and let you pick a movie.

“By the way, your soda is definitely watered down.”

“It’s okay, I’ll grab another one.”

You say as you stood and handed him the desired movie. He playfully hit your ass when you passed him and you giggled. You were about to sit down but you saw Negan laid a few blankets and nice pillows on the ground as a nice bed. You take his hand as he helped you kneel down to the floor. You felt the soft covers and Negan pulling you to lay against his body.

“You want any candy or something?”

“Well it depends what do you have?”

He grinned and reached to pull a small bucket of different candies.

“Anything between chocolate, gummy, or even some minty shit.”

“Oh wow. This is a bit much.”

“It’s nothing babe. Go on pick what you like.”

You reached to grab a candy bar and Negan started the film. Negan made comments and little jokes throughout the movie and which you would reply with by nudging him with your shoulder.

“Can you just watch the movie?”

“Nope. Gotta speak my mind at anytime baby.”

You just laughed it off and enjoyed the way Negan held onto you. Soon the movie ended and you suggested to start another one but Negan dismissed it as he stood to use the restroom. You sat up and look out the window to see the starry sky accompanied by the city lights. You get lost into the sighf and forget where you are so when Negan sits next to you, it goes unnoticed. He didn’t say anything but joined in. You turned to lay on your side and stared out the window, Negan curled to spoon you. You scooted closer to him and heard him groan. That only gave you an idea and giggled as you pressed against his crotch. He didn’t do anything but squeeze your middle.

You slid your hand behind you and went to caress over his sweats. Negan moaned and you took it as encouragement to go further. Your hand then went beneath his pants and you felt him growing hard at the touch. He nuzzled his face in your neck and felt his breath growing heavy. His hand pulled your wrist and shifted to move over you.

“Did I get someone excited?”

You smirked as your hand brushed over his chest and he chuckled. He leaned down and kissed your lips. You two had sex again but this time, Negan took his time with you. He slowed down from the rough kisses to soft and slow. You felt his touch everywhere and his lips burned into your skin. The sweet whispers he said into your ear as he rolled his hips to that sweet spot. Only his name left your mouthand held onto him tightly.

For a minute he held his body over yours and took in the sweet bliss in your after glow.

“Ya know something sugar.”

“What?”

“Your fucking special and I like this little thing we got here.”

“I do too.”

You smile and as he sweetly kisses you. Negan lays on his side and you lay against his chest.

I think this will turn into a series 😳 ….

JDM TAGLIST:

@ffakc @negans-attagirl @jonasdean02 @eddiesgirl @littlebadgirly @cosmilla @iluvneganandjamie @little-bad-girly @ohyoubetterbejokin @bratty-dolly @jdmsgal @nyxerebus

#jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jeffrey dean morgan x you #fanfic #jeffreys thirst squad #negan x you #negan x reader #negan #the walking dead negan #twd fanfiction #negans thirst squad #negan smut

[bingoluka]

Need You

Summary: After a case gone wrong, and an injury left unattended, Loki realizes that even Gods need somebody.

Notes: Includes wound depiction and good ole' angst! Also a lil' Wowki but I'm a little bitch baby.

...

When he said it hurt like hell, it hurt like hell.

Each case tended to go wrong in its own unique and terrible way. Whether one of them leaves with a torn shirt and headache, or a deep gash and a broken spirit, one thing was certain; that Mobius and Loki looked out for each other.

Though, Loki would hardly admit he had grown quite fond of the man he called his partner.

Beyond that, he would hardly admit when he really, truly needed his help. He was independent, he knew this, and sometimes asking for the help or pity of another more than once seemed too much mental strain- for both him and whoever had the bad fortune of being alongside him. He hadn't realized the severity of the injury at the time, as a large piece of metal tore away at his abdomen while swimming from an impending tsunami. His magic had already begun to heal him, fixing the initial trauma while the freezing water numbed him.

He has assumed the blood in the water hadn't been his.

Now there he was, wandering aimlessly along the TVA corridors, wishing desperately he could lay his inhibitions to rest all the while sparing his friend the worry. Though, he knew it was unlikely.

The air felt cold against his skin, each step sending a fiery blast of pain across his stomach and up to his back. He grimaced. Pathetic, he thought to himself weakly. Who are you without your power?

"Loki? Loki!"

His voice sounded distant at first, so much he grew concerned he had never heard it at all. A sharp exhale left Loki's mouth as another pang sent shockwaves through his body.

"Oh no- oh no-!"

He stumbled, his legs crossing wildly over each other and he fell into the wall next to him. He began to sink to his knees, the pain becoming overpowering as he fought to stay present. How was it getting worse?

He realized then the wound no longer felt cold. It felt hot, burning as fresh blood spilled from the wound. Loki realized then how little healing had taken place.

"Loki? Hey, hey look at me."

Mobius's voice was soft, calming as it was fearful. Loki wanted to melt into the other, hide from the agony.

"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. "I thought it had healed- I thought- I thought it wasn't this bad-"

"Shh," he whispered, keeping a steady hand on Loki's back. "Loki, can you walk?"

Loki stopped for a moment, his eyes falling to the ground in shame. His breathing was already erratic, jumbling his thoughts and rationality to the point he wasn't sure of anything. He looked up at Mobius now, his eyes scanning his for a sign.

"Come on."

Loki hadn't realized how many people were there with them. Maybe it was adrenaline, or his partial loss of vision from the wound, either way, the voices began to filter in at that moment. Agents and hunters, some workers he had never seen all gathered around them. Mobius had taken one side, while a hunter had him on the other, leading him out of the hall when his body began to go limp. He fought against it, begging himself to stay upright just long enough to prove he was capable. But he wasn't, and they knew this. His knees buckled beneath him, sending both him and the other two staggering forward with an "oh-!"

He could feel them ease him to the ground, pain shooting through him again as he made contact with the floor- causing him to cry out.

"We need to address the wounds here," Mobius said, his voice sharp and heavy. "He's deteriorating, either we let him use magic or we heal him ourselves."

"We can't just let that happen, we have to be outside of the TVA," someone said. "We need to take him somewhere else."

As they spoke, others had taken to pressing against his wound to suppress the bleeding. At first, it was agony. But after a while, he felt a warmth come over his body, a peace he had never felt as the pain melted away. He knew it wasn't supposed to happen, Mobius frantically calling his name being a sure sign, but the relief was something he couldn't deny.

"Loki! Stay with us, come on-"

Before he slipped into sleep, the last thing he saw was Mobius over him, eyes wide and brimming with tears. God, he was tired. But he regretting falling asleep all the same.

...

"If I would've known he was hurt, I wouldn't have taken my eyes off him, what more is there to understand?"

Mobius looked at Renslayer for a moment. Defiance wasn't typically in his nature, though he'll admit his actions spoke otherwise. He was more a calm deviant, not driven by a harsh nature but rather a calm and collected one. She sighed, resting her pointer and thumb on the bridge of her nose.

"I know, I know. But we can't have events like that happen, Mobius. Half our team was distracted, imagine if the variant had struck then?"

"You know I respect you, Renslayer. I really do, I admire you and you know that. But this just seems wrong, he's still a person," Mobius said, frowning. "I know in the grander scheme of things we have a lot to worry about but I saw humanity out there. A collective force of good working toward an unspoken goal."

"Which is?"

"Making sure variant or not, we're taking care of each other."

...

Loki woke on the couch that night.

Wait, couch?

He had expected to still be on the floor. Though he knew Mobius would never, it wasn't out of the picture that another agent might let him stay on the ground. After all, they weren't too fond of him. He went to stretch, the sharp pains from his stomach stopping him in his tracks as he remembered why he was there.

The room was dark, dark enough that beyond his fixed point on the couch, Loki could hardly see a thing. A voice pierced the air, causing him to jump.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

As Loki realized who it was, he sank back into the couch.

"Fine," he mumbled. Mobius raised an eyebrow.

"Really? You didn't seem too fine back there when you were bleeding out in the halls of the TVA."

"Well, I was," Loki snapped, staring up at the ceiling. He realized how foolish he sounded, but at that point, he didn't care.

"Loki, what happened on that mission?" Mobius asked gently, ignoring the other's outburst. Loki sighed a bit, trying to shift his position.

"I didn't-" he cut himself off with a wince as he moved wrong, the pain burning at first, then turning into a dull ache. Mobius looked down at him worriedly.

"I didn't think it was that bad," he said hurriedly. "I was so cold from the water I didn't feel it. I just assumed the blood hadn't been mine."

It was grim. The idea of the blood in the water was so common for that moment, so anticipated that he had nearly bled out yet speculated it was from somebody else. It brought into focus the severity of even human apocalypses.

"But the blood," Mobius said, frowning. "I should have been able to see it on your shirt when we got back. I didn't see any."

"My magic had healed it for the most part," Loki said. "Just not enough. Once I returned it must've begun to reverse."

As Loki spoke, he noticed Mobius reaching for the hem of his shirt. He quickly blocked his hand with an offended "Hey." Mobius chuckled, shaking his head.

"I'm just trying to see it, come on."

"You don't need to," Loki glared. But of course his efforts didn't deter Mobius, who kept his steady gaze.

"Loki," he said gently. "Come on, let me see."

Loki sighed, wordlessly lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal the array of wounds, accented by the much larger wound that ran across the bottom of his abdomen. He heard Mobius's breath catch.

"Geez..." He murmured, gently brushing a finger across the uninjured skin, which even then was sore.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asked sadly. Loki cast his eyes to the side.

"An unspoken rule amongst warriors in Asgard was to each their own. It wasn't uncommon to receive wounds in battle, it was seen as noble to keep them to yourself."

"Well, that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Mobius said with raised eyebrows. He added a hasty, "No offense."

"No, I agree. They were all morons," he said lightheartedly.

Mobius laughed now, bowing his head as he did so. Loki smiled a bit, still somewhat troubled by the pain but not enough to mention it.

"This is your apartment, then?" He said, trying to initiate conversation so Mobius wouldn't see as he began to sit up.

"Hey, not so fast," Mobius said, placing a hand on the small of Loki's back. "Your powers may be back, but you have a ways to go."

"I'm alright, really."

"I'm beginning to think that phrase holds less ethos each time I hear it."

Loki huffed, barely managing to sit all the way up. He looked around the room as his eyes adjusted. It was a small apartment, most of his items being placed in the living area. Books, dusty empty bottles, wooden furniture accented with water stains and loose change. The carpet was plush, he noticed, like something you would see from the nineties. It was all very cozy and welcoming.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, assuming that's what Loki had been looking at. "I didn't really have time to clean."

"Mess?" Loki frowned. "Mobius, you bring me into your home and you really assume I'm going to judge the state of it?"

"Well, to be fair, I don't get a lot of visitors," he smiled. "Now you need some rest, alright?"

If Loki had just an ounce more strength, he would've shot back some snarky response. This time, however, he found himself too tired to think of one, so instead, he flashed a quick smile.

"I'll be here if you need me."

If you need me.

Loki pondered on the words for a while. Maybe it was the way he said it, or the weariness finally catching up with him. Before he never would have admitted he need someone, much less someone with no relation to him. But in that darkened room he gathered he had a change of heart. As he felt himself slowly fading into the warm embrace of sleep, he felt a hand run across his head, gently brushing his unkempt hair back in a stroking motion. He wanted to open his eyes, to see Mobius, but he stayed still just long enough to hear the words,

"Glad you're alright, Lokes."

Before contently falling asleep.

#self indulgent fic #loki #loki series #loki show #angst #loki angst #wowki #lokius #wowki fluff #wowki angst #i wrote this on my phone #in my notes app #hurt comfort #whump

[hops-hunny]

That’s Why I Love You

Pairing: Pothead!Fuckboy!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: It’s fuck love till you’re fucking and in love

Warnings: Angst with one line of hope, a dash of smut

A/N: Honestly this is what I thought of when I heard the song below. This song is so addicting in all the worst ways. Also ty lxngbottom for tempting me to write this -mwah-

He couldn't stop, he was addicted. Every square inch, every kiss, every single thrust had him wanting more and more. Neville didn't know it was possible to be addicted to one person so much. He knew what it was like to be driven by lust considering most his bedroom endevors were. Neville was no rookie when it came to fucking, in fact, other than his herbology skill (and his weed) it was the thing he was most commonly known for.

Hookups were his thing because hookups were simple. They don’t require any emotions. A simple in and out, fuck her and leave. It was something he did with almost no thought. Why would he? It wasn’t his responsibility for the feelings that could occur or form, the people he screwed around with weren’t stupid and if they were once again, that wasn’t his problem. He made it abundantly clear to every girl he slept with that he was not in the market for anything more than a casual fuck, maybe even a string of fucks. And even though he saw no problem with it, quite a few people did causing him to have a notorious reputation. No one would’ve ever saw it coming during 1st year but now, Neville was a fuckboy in his prime (and a damn good one too). 

But sometimes he found himself thinking of how he could change, how he could put it out on the line for one girl, one really addicting girl. Her name coursed through his skin at the same rate his blood did and fuck was it scary. Neville couldn’t quite place it at first. He thought she just had fire pussy, which she did, but he was smart enough to know it was more than that. The first time he had tried to figure it out was when he was hotboxing his dorm with Seamus and Ron. 

“What’s on your mind, man?” Seamus asked, coughing and spluttering a bit as he gave Neville the blunt. Neville took it, taking a perfect hit as he looked up at his friend confused. “You’re looking unusually tense for someone who smokes as much as we do.”

“Nah mate, I’m just thinking. Y’know that chick I’ve been fucking?” he asked, leaning back as he ran a hand through his wavy tresses.

“Which one? That’d be like asking ‘you see that star in the sky?’.” he rolled his eyes at the boy, handing him back the joint roughly.

“You know, (Y/n). The one with the thighs?” Seamus’s eyes lit up, making a growling noise at the mention of the girl. She was attractive, intensely so. However, she ignored the advances of just about every man that had approached her. Every man but Neville that is. “Well like she’s been making me feel things. Like weird things. I don’t know if she’s used a-”

“Easy man. You’re in love. Simple as that.”

When Seaus had proposed that idea, he thought it was absurd! He didn’t do love, love was stupid. It made you blind and clueness, an absolute fool. Love requires you to take each and every part of yourself and expose it to someone, a stranger, and hope, pray that the accept you for who you are. How could he do that, when he didn’t know who he was himself? But the more and more he mulled over Seamus’s words, the more the idea creeped up to him. He tried to ignore it, running and running from it, but it was at every corner, down every corridor, and in every orgasm. He grew suspicious of him ownself when he started canceling his other shags, making excuses of why he couldn’t see them in order to fit her into his schedule. When he was fucking her, screwing her brains out, he didn’t have to acknowledge his feelings.

He knew it wasn’t fair to her but to hell with it. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her cause afterall they both wanted the same thing, to feel something other than love, something other than the pain that came with feelings.

Unbeknownst to him, she was in the same boat. She knew as soon as the feeling first came to be in her. It was crazy really, love really was the way they described it in books. One minute, you’re ignoring every man to ever approach you, then suddenly you’re banging your plug day in and day out. (Y/n) blamed the smoke sessions because that’s what it started out as. They were small, intimate, and cozy. Neville always had the best jams to smoke to but they were so sensual...so overwhelming. It seemed like she could feel his words embedding into her skin.

She had never wondered about what they were. They were aquaintances who smoked a bowl together from time to time. But something in her that night, whether it be the bud or her subconscious mind made her take that leap. (Y/n) knew she was responsible for it all in the first place. Neville had been nothing but kind, never touching her, never trying to make an advance on her- but maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was frustrated that the guy that got around most at Hogwarts had never made an advance on her. Maybe she was in love with the idea of the chase and not the idea of him.

Is what she’d say if she was truly in denial. She knew what she was feeling. She had been in love once before which is exactly why she didn’t want to fall in love again. Draco had left her a cold, empty, emotionless shell of what she once was. It took her ages to build back that confidence and she wasn’t in the market to lose it again. 

But when he looked down at her, with those pretty hazel eyes, sometimes she couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like to fall in love with him. What it’d be like to stay in his bed after they were done, smoking a blunt together through a drowsy exchange of words. For him to look at her with love instead of lust, to make love together instead of the harsh fucking they’d usually do. Even though she had came to terms with it herself, it didn’t matter. She knew Neville and Neville knew her (or at least who she used to be).

“F-fuck! Oh my god, right there Nev! Y-ye-es!” she moaned out, arching her back into his grasp. He tightened his grip, adding a force he didn’t know he had into the already strenuous rhythm that he had been going. They had been going at it for hours, (Y/n) on her 5th orgasm and Neville barely just beginning to reach his first. Other than the sheer size of his dick, Neville’s stamina made him a serious threat.

“Y-yeah? Right here, baby?” he asked through staggered breaths, hitting her spot repeatedly for emphasis. He ripped his eyes from the ceiling, looking into hers. Her fucked out expression combined with the way she was clenching around him was enough to make him lose it. With his orgasm drawing near, he became feral, balls slapping against her with each harsh thrust as he choked her. He pressed her deeper into the bed, resting his forehead against hers as he felt himself about to release and with the way she was thrashing about and whimpering, he could tell she was close too. “Oh fuck, angel!”

“I love you!” they both screamed, eyes widening as they came down from their high, the weight of their words crashing down on them. He pulled out of her quickly, staring at her as she stared back.

“You...I...what?” he whispered. However, she didn’t respond, quickly putting her panties back on as she slid her dress over her head. Was she really leaving? After they had both confessed so feverishly? “You’re not actually about to leave are you? Really?! (Y/n) I heard you say it, I heard you say it loud and clear!” however the girl still wouldn’t look at him.

“Listen, Neville. We already have something good and I…” she trailed off as she opened the door. He gasped as she turned around, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“You’re wrong, you’re wrong and you know it!” he seethed, watching as she froze, turning around the other way once again. “You can run away all you want, but I’m not giving up on you.” he said, sincerity laced through his words. Even though she didn’t respond, she had heard his words. Closing the door, she left without another sound.

‘That’s why I love you.’

TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @princesslaiahg​ @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend​ @redpanda-poetry​ @vibingaesthetically​ 

#neville longbottom x reader #Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Spotify

[the-redeemed-anon]

Welp, since we got Wilbur back, let’s take a look at Eight

As a disclaimer, I’ll talk about the character, and if I mention the CC, I will label his name accordingly.

Okay, since the pog thing that happened on the 29th of April, and a couple of bad takes have already started to pop up Jesus Christ guys why do you want the dude that just got back to life after being trapped in limbo for over a decade to get beaten up violently- I think it’s appropriate to bring attention to the thing that gave me my pseudonym and my belief that we may get a redemption/healing arc for Wilbur: the song Eight, by Sleeping at Last.

Why this song matters, you may wonder. Well, it’s a song that we have confirmation to have been CC!Wilbur’s personal inspiration for his character, as said by CC!Wilbur himself. Not only does that give us insight into how and why Wilbur acted in certain ways in Season 1, but it also gives us the opportunity to see the inner turmoil he went through and still will.

Now keep in mind that this is just my interpretation of the song, other people may see the song differently, but overall looking at this song and looking for meaning into it I think is very useful if you plan to analyse Wilbur or even write about him. It truly gives you a lot of insight and context for how he was. Here is a link to it for you to listen to it, before I dive into the analysis.

First, let’s see what Eight is about, as a song. The song is about Type Eight of the Enneagram of Personality, which is basically a system that defines 9 different personality types. Sleeping at Last made a song for each Enneagram, actually, but we’re here to talk about Type 8 (also bear in mind I am not an expert in psychology, so I am not here to comment on the validity of this system. I’m here just to analyze a song lol).

What is Type 8 (aka a bit of analysis on Wilbur outside of the song)

Type 8 is often called the Challenger or the Protector. This type is characterized by a want to not show vulnerability, to have power. Their deepest fear is to not be in control of themselves, to be harmed, to be vulnerable, and their desire is to be in control of themselves, their life/destiny. They want respect over status, value loyalty and they want to make an impact on the world. You can start to see some core characteristics of Wilbur in this description.

We also have levels, from healthy to unhealthy, with which we can see what a Type 8 person can behave like.

Healthy Type 8 people act like a protector for others, they are the strong leaders, the challengers of oppression, the people who don’t stand for injustice in their communities. You can say they are the natural leader type, and I think you can start to see inklings of Wilbur’s personality from early Season 1 here. He started L’Manberg to challenge what he saw as tyranny. When Wilbur described the reasons he cared about L’Manberg, we can also notice that the values he lists align with the core desires of a Type 8: the desire to have control over their life, and not allow others to control them. By making L’Manberg to “stick it to the man“, Wilbur is very stereotypically a Type 8.

Average Type 8 people aren’t as open as someone on the healthy level is. Showing weakness is unacceptable. They may see relationships as the next challenge they need to surpass, and can come easily off as intimidating and ambitious to peers. To me, this sounds a bit like Wilbur after the War, before the announcement of the Festival. He was more closed off around that time, and you could argue that the Elections were a part of his ambition to prove that people respect him, that he can do this, rule a country. The new revelation that Wilbur was lying in his letters to Phil, about the Elections and the formation of Pogtopia also shows that he didn’t want to show weakness, to disappoint or worry his father.

Unhealthy Type 8 people become so closed off that they are intimidating and can appear tyrannical from the outside, often disregarding the feelings of others. They pursue power, and when someone stands in their way, they are cold and become quite antagonistic. They may issue empty threats in their pursuit for power, and their already existing relationships are turned into tests, where the only option is to pass or to fail, with no in-between. This can result in them being abandoned, and them accepting this as being better this way, to be alone. They can force themselves into loneliness.

If this sounds terribly familiar and recent, well... Wilbur, ever since the “Then let’s be the bad guys“ speech, has exhibited the traits of an unhealthy Type 8. Even now, post-resurrection, while he is trying to improve on himself, a lot of his traits remain or have worsened, due to staying in limbo for 13 years. He still has a persona under which he hides his issues, and as I have said in another post, he’s the emotional equivalent of a snail, you poke him gently and he completely retreats in his shell. Wilbur has actively driven people away from him for being so confrontational, and this can be seen again with Ranboo. All in all, Wilbur is definitely cozy in that section of the Type for now.

I also want to talk separately about three things:

1. The Pit

I won’t lie, the Pit is probably the most extreme thing Wilbur did to this date. It’s Wilbur at his lowest point morally and mentally, reveling in his brother figure fighting a much tougher opponent and losing. I won’t sit here and say he was right, nor am I gonna condemn you for your opinion on the Pit, but, when you look at Wilbur’s enneagram, the Pit and why it happened makes sense. What happened right before? The Festival. The Festival was meant to be the time Wilbur either blew up Manberg or left it be, based on Tubbo’s call. Wilbur prepared for those two scenarios, and felt in control of the situation... then it all went horribly wrong. The situation spiraled wildly out of Wilbur’s grasp and it ended with the death of Tubbo and the possibility of Techno being on Schlatt’s side.

This started a breakdown fueled by paranoia that led to the Pit, to Wilbur goading Techno and Tommy to fight. The question is, why? Why do that?

To regain control. Wilbur, in my opinion, did that in an attempt to regain control, after the Festival slipped so hard from his grasp, no matter his effort to keep control of it. That was his urge, that was his need in the moment, no matter how messed up it was, he may have felt like this was necessary. Remember, the core fear of Eights is to not be in control of their own life and destiny, to be puppeteered by someone else. This is why the Pit happened, when you acknowledge the fact that Wilbur was unstable mentally, and he is the type of person to want control.

2. The want to protect others

This is a quality of healthy Eights that still shines through with Wilbur, but it’s sadly overshadowed by his more antagonistic or morally darker actions and quotes.

Wilbur was naturally a protective person. Because Eights challenge authority, this makes them see the world as being inhabited by those who are strong and those who are weak, and not in a bad way. Eights consider themselves part of the strong ones, because they stand up for themselves, but because they see the world also inhabited by the weak, they have the urge to protect them. They also stand up for whom they think can’t stand up for themselves on their own, they think they are responsible for the protection of others.

And when you look at Wilbur, this shines through. He made himself President, and while no one protested, he did it because he felt he was the one fit for the role. Even at the time this scene happened, you can see why Wilbur would have perceived Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy as weaker than him: Fundy was his son, and Tommy and Tubbo, no matter the age intended at the time, were always viewed as younger than him, not to say, Tommy had just lost 2 lives back-to-back. Therefore, Wilbur put himself in charge and with the duty to protect the nation and its people, as the President.

Wilbur even says this in the flashback from Quackity’s stream:

[“What has made you do everything you’ve done up to this point?” (Quackity)

“That’s a- That’s a big question. Um. I guess it’s just protection for my people. I mean, I- I- I just want to see them thrive, and I want to see them safe.” (Alivebur) - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:03:02, 12th Apr)]

It’s clear, Wilbur has a desire to protect his nation, and, by extension, his people, his friends, especially with the following quote once Quackity replies: [“Your aspirations of optimism are not going to be subject to my nation’s security I’m afraid. I- I completely disagree with everything you’ve said.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:18, 12th Apr)] He keeps hammering in the idea that he did what he did to protect and offer safety to his friends. That’s why he needed power: [“If you want to really help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:05:42, 12th Apr)]

And again, this happens even after the “Then let’s be the bad guys“ speech. Even though he initially says he wants to kill everyone at the Festival, when confronted with this on the day of the event, he second-guesses himself. He doesn’t want to hurt his friends, he doesn’t want to hurt people weaker than him. He distrusts Tubbo, but the moment Techno fires the first rocket, he’s shocked, appalled and moves to go to the button, while urging Tommy to act. When Schlatt wants to kill Niki, he steps out and offers himself to be killed and no one else be harmed.

Even the act of pushing the button himself, there are Wilbur analysts who have pointed out that Wilbur may have wanted to be stopped. And even then, the explosion created no casualties, thanks to all of them wearing armor.

In the Void, Wilbur talks about how he’s evil, how the server is better off without him. He recognizes himself as a hazard, and while that is a part of his self-loathing and hatred, you can also see his care for others shine through: he didn’t want to come back at the time, because he thought he would bring back conflict, suffering [“Here’s the thing, I genuinely think, if it weren’t for me and you dying right, the server would be in shambles. I know for a fact that if I come back, or if I’m brought back to life in some way it’s definitely gonna just go [shit again]” “I know what I’m like, that’s the issue.” - (Tommy’s am i dead?: 10:29, 4th March)]. By staying dead, at this point, he was continuing to prevent weaker people from being harmed.

Even now, post-resurrection, we can see this, but, well...

3. Opinion on Dream

I have looked at this before, from the angle of Wilbur’s mentality. We all know his opinion on Dream so far, that he would have killed him on the spot for what happened to Tommy in the Exile, but Wilbur still considers him his hero. While I said at the time that it may be a subtle way for Wilbur to cloak his self-loathing and self-hatred, but now I want to look at the first part again, from the perspective of Type 8:

Wilbur, by having the urge to kill Dream on the spot, for what he did to Tommy in Exile (and, keep in mind, Ghostbur wasn’t there for all of it, so Wilbur did not see the destruction of Logsted and why it happened, or how Tommy was completely isolated from everyone after the party, and Tommy referred to Dream as his owner to Mexican Dream), no matter what he says after about Dream, proves that he still has the quality to want to protect the weak.

Dream, as always, is one of the strong people of the server. He’s the owner, he has a lot of items and good gear, and in general, everyone recognizes him with a level of danger he presents, and power. Tommy, on the other hand, is one of the weaker ones.

While Tommy has valuable traits, like his loyalty, his fierce determination and the will to keep moving despite how low life kicks him at times, one can’t deny that, in general, Tommy is viewed as one of the weak. He doesn’t have that many powerful items, he isn’t physically that strong, people constantly pick on him, and he is one of the minors of the server, the youngest of them, in fact. Add to that the humiliation of Exile and the treatment he was put through, Tommy was not only at his weakest then, but also at his most vulnerable.

Why would it be a surprise then for Wilbur to want to gut Dream, considering the above? Tommy and Wilbur were very close. As Wilbur acknowledged in the latest stream: [“We were a family, Tommy. We were…” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 27:26, 5th May)], they were once so close they could have been brothers. Tommy stuck with Wilbur as a right hand man, he was the only one who didn’t give up on him in Pogtopia, no matter if he thought his choices were right or wrong, and Wilbur confided in Tommy a lot. Now take this little brother figure he had in Tommy, and put him through Exile.

Of course Wilbur would want to gut Dream, Tommy may as well be part of his family, and Wilbur doesn’t strike me as the kind to want his loved ones in pain, genuinely. He may dismiss the feelings Tommy has sometimes, but his reaction to Exile shows that he isn’t blind to suffering. He saw it and recognized as harmful and damaging to Tommy, unprompted by anyone else.

He even makes a comment that I think may be important in the future: [“Tommy, I’m not, I’m not- I wasn’t blind, I saw what he was doing to you, Tommy. I saw. I saw what he was doing to Tubbo. I saw what he did to me.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 21:08, 5th May)]. Remember, Wilbur right now is deeply conflicted, I don’t think he’s properly sorted his feelings on Dream yet. He, in this quote, recognizes he saw how Dream treated Tommy, Tubbo and himself. While Eights want to protect the weak, their core fear is being controlled or harmed by others. I am very curious what will happen if, or, when, Wilbur will decide that Dream is also a hazard to himself, or if Dream will try to use Wilbur for his own plans. But, this is starting to deviate from the purpose of this post so, with that out of the way...

The lyrics:

I remember the minute It was like a switch was flipped I was just a kid who grew up strong enough To pick this armor up And suddenly it fit

Here, Wilbur’s arc and story begins. The lyric recount the moment Wilbur’s spiral began: the Final Control Room. He remembers that betrayal up to his death, still calling Eret a traitor and quoting him, with the same quote he used: “It was never meant to be”. This moment is what will define and shape Wilbur throughout Season 1, and even now. The switch mentioned is the button pressed, the moment everything changed. “I was just a kid” is Wilbur recognizing that he was not ready for the role of President, sentiment reflected by the rest of the lyrics: “who grew up strong enough/To pick this armor up”. Wilbur forced himself to bear the title of president, like a suit of armor, something that protects you, and helps you to fight for others, until “suddenly it fit”.

God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive And I grew up too quick

Here Wilbur internally recognizes that time passed, his ideology changed, as evident the quotes from Quackity’s stream: [“You say, you say everyone has a good side, Quackity. And you’re right, you’re right, everyone has a good side, but that good side is only there to help themselves. If you want to really help people, you’re gonna need power, Quackity. You can make a movement, you can make a resistance, right, you can go out and you can come back, and they’ll give you a ticker tape parade. They’ll cheer for you in the streets, but you will change nothing. If you have a revolution, everyone will hate you, you will sacrifice everything, and you will lose everything you’ve ever had, but you’ll come back and everything will be changed. And Quackity, if you want to change things, you’re gonna need power. That’s what you want, really, isn’t it? Look at me. And power isn’t gaining from diplomacy, and bureaucracy, and giant courthouses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah. It’s gained from swords, Quackity. It’s gained from blades, it’s gained from steel, iron. Even if everyone has this good side that you’re talking about, then anyone who wants to prove it, has to show their dark side first. You’re going to have to kill, you’re going to have to torture, you’re going to have to maim.” - (Quackity’s Killing My Enemies: 1:06:34, 12th Apr)]. Yet, even if this happened so “long ago, long ago, long ago”, he “grew up too quick”, because the change was too sudden, and it didn’t occur naturally.

Now you won't see all that I have to lose And all I've lost in the fight to protect it I won't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected

I think this verse refers to the Election and its fallout. He quite literally loses a lot on that day, not only his country and his second life, but seemingly, his son, because Fundy takes down the walls. Wilbur also lost a lot in the Independence War, as he lost his first life in there, his son and allies lost their lives too, and this created the perfect environment for paranoia around trust to form. Wilbur, at this point, swears to not let himself be vulnerable with anyone again, or to fully trust people, because of what happened in the Final Control Room and at the Elections. The last line is Wilbur deciding to go ahead and start Pogtopia, to reclaim his nation. As you may remember, the Election was held so that Wilbur could legitimize his presidency, because he felt people started to not listen to him anymore, and an election, in his mind, would have fixed that. Due to his paranoia, and depression, Wilbur couldn’t afford to lose, because the presidency was one of the things that gave him happiness and helped him function. Once he lost and was banished, he decided to strike back and take back the country, or, as the lyrics say, “I refuse to be rejected”.

I want to break these bones 'til they're better I want to break them right and feel alive You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong My healing needed more than time

People who’ve broken a bone before may be familiar with this, but there is a possibility for a broken bone to heal incorrectly, so, when that happens, the bone is broken again and you try again. What that lyric means is that Wilbur was not healing properly, and he was constantly damaging himself again, to restart the process, to make his bones stronger, to make himself better. The “feel alive“ part, in my opinion, goes hand in hand with the fact that Wilbur was... not in the best place mentally in that time. We all know how he died, and, to be honest, a lot of the morally bad things Wilbur did could be argued to have been done to give him something to live, be it thrill or satisfaction. The last two lyrics, I feel, are directed to Tommy; Wilbur needed more than just time to “come back around“, and we know how Season 1 ended.

Now, this may be a controversial take, but... This is the end of Wilbur’s Season 1 arc. I think this is as far as Wilbur’s parallel to Eight went in Season 1, it’s the Pogtopia Era, up to November 16th. You may say that it’s his unfinished son- *gunshots*

Okay, okay, but what does that mean for the rest of the song? Well... It could be that either CC!Wilbur will stop with the Eight parallels here, or, the version I like, it means that the rest of the song is a hint for insight into how Wilbur feels and how his character will change in the future.

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things I see the familiar I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too Now I'm a broken mirror

This is Wilbur recognizing that he is not okay, internally, which we know is a thing in canon, because of this quote from the Resurrection stream: [”Are you trying to- Are you trying to make me- Tommy, are you trying to make me- You remember that time in the cave? Are you trying- Are you trying do- Are you trying to make me feel like I did back then, in Pogtopia? Are you trying to- Are you trying to make me feel as bad as I did back then? ‘Cause it’s not gonna work!” - (Tommy’s Breaking Into Prison To Kill Dream: 59:06, 29th Apr)] It’s a great step for Wilbur, afterall, healing starts when you recognize you have a problem, so you can begin fixing it, but, as we know...

But I can't let you see all that I have to lose All I've lost in the fight to protect it I can't let you in, I swore never again I can't afford to let myself be blindsided

Wilbur is the emotional equivalent of a snail. Here we see “Snailbur” doing a reprise of the third paragraph, which I linked to him in the Election Era and its fallout. From the way the lyrics are worded, we can see the how similar they are, but there is a difference: reluctance. Wilbur knows he’s not okay, but he can’t reach out for help, because then, he’ll be showing weakness, but he wants to open up. “Now” becomes “but”, “I won’t let you in” becomes “I can’t let you in”. Now he’s not afraid of rejection, he doesn’t want to be blindsided, which I didn’t know at first what it meant, because my native language is not English, but when I looked it up I came across this definition: “to surprise someone, usually with harmful results”. This shows us something important: Wilbur is hiding his true feelings because he’s afraid to not be hurt again. He doesn’t want another Final Control Room or Election to happen to him.

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart And all I want is to trust you Show me how to lay my sword down For long enough to let you through

This set confirms it, Wilbur is on the defense now, he’s defending from potential hurt, and the second part of the first lyric is hinting at what a lot of Wilbur analysts have pointed out and we are prepping for: Wilbur having a big crash from the high he’s experiencing from getting resurrected, he’ll be “falling apart“, he’ll be vulnerable, and open to hurt, or... Redemption. This is it. This is the section that made me insist and theorize about a redemption/healing arc: that second lyric, continuing with the rest: Wilbur is reaching out to someone or some people, that he can put his trust to. Wilbur doesn’t just need someone willing to redeem him, because we had that in Pogtopia, with Tommy, no, Wilbur also needs himself to open up, trust people and ask for help. And that is exactly what happens in the last two lyrics: Wilbur is asking for help to open up and let people help him.

Here I am, pry me open What do you want to know? I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough To hold the door shut And bury my innocence But here's a map, here's a shovel Here's my Achilles' heel

And here we have it. Wilbur opening up. Wilbur finally letting someone in, admitting he’s scared, he’s scared of hurting again, comparing himself to a kid. This one I find very symbolic, because if he, at the beginning, was a kid, then by admitting he is a kid at this stage, he’s the same person he was at the beginning, with the good he had, with the flaws he had, what he did and the trauma he gained will never erase that. The innocence in this part of the song, I think is Ghostbur. People forget, but while Ghostbur seems to be a separate entity, he’s still very much a version of Wilbur. He has a lot of his memories, his happy ones. Wilbur and Ghostbur are the two sides of the same coin, different, yet so much alike. You need both to understand the other. Wilbur has the capacity to be innocent, to be kind, good, he just... buried these qualities, and someone has to help him dig them up, when he is ready to open up. I don’t think I need to explain the meaning of someone showing you their Achilles’ heel, beside the fact that it means they trust you with their life. Wilbur needs to find someone to trust.

I'm all in, palms out I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

Here, I think we see Wilbur accepting the consequences of his actions, of the hurt he caused, because, while he’s not irredeemable, he did hurt people, and he needs to be open to them not forgiving them, but, as the song says, just then he’ll be “ready to begin” his healing and redemption. And right at the end there, “I am strong” is repeated thrice, he’s ready to heal, to be vulnerable with someone. It’s the redemption in full swing from here to the end.

I'ma shake the ground with all my might And I will pull my whole heart up to the surface For the innocent, for the vulnerable And I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose

Remember what I said, about healthy Eights? Champions of the people, natural leaders, challengers of oppression and protectors of the weak? This is what Wilbur should become at the end of the redemption, if we are to follow the song. He’s gonna put all of his strength into fighting for what’s right, and he’ll open up, he will heal. We’ll be back to fighting for “the innocent, for the vulnerable”, he’ll have a purpose to fulfill. L’Manberg was deeply tied to both Wilbur and Ghostbur, and Wilbur himself admitted to caring about L’Manberg because what it stood for. Now, L’Manberg is gone, but those ideals aren’t. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll fight in the future to protect those ideals.

And, finally:

And I'll give all I have, I'll give my blood, give my sweat An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again Invincible like I've never been

I really like the end here. Because, it’s not only reinforcing the idea that Wilbur will be redeemed, but that penultimate lyric always stood out for me: “I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again”. Porcelain is, while very fragile, a beautiful material. When I think of the word, I think of beautiful vases, handcrafted with skill and care. It’s a shame when a porcelain vase breaks. But, just because something is broken, it doesn’t mean it can’t be repaired. And when I think of repaired porcelain, I think of the Japanese art of kintsugi - a technique with which broken pottery is glued in such a way that the cracks aren’t hidden, but celebrated as a part of the object’s history, by filling them in with gold. I like to think that at the end of his healing arc, Wilbur will be similar, he was broken, he healed, but the scars are still there, and, even then, he’ll be thriving again. It’ll be an experience that, overall, helped him become better. And the final lyric: “Invincible like I've never been“, I like to think that this will be him at his peak: healed, happy, ready to take life by the horns, like he wasn’t before. It’s a hopeful, happy note to finish the song and his story on.

And that is my analysis on the song and the enneagram, I guess (Jesus this got waaay longer than I expected). I really hope Wilbur will get a redemption arc, it’s already wonderful that we have him back AND he wants to live (it’s honestly the first time I see, in any media, a suicide victim that not only is brought back to life, but they are happy to be back). Hopefully this is useful to people, and, as always, thanks to @kateis-cakeis for compiling Wilbur’s/Ghostbur’s quotes in a masterlist with timestamps and anything you’d want to know about them. It’s a goldmine of analyzing Wilbur and I highly encourage you to check it out.

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur #dream smp analysis #dmp analysis #dream smp character analysis #dsmp character analysis #finally... after 3000 years... the Eight analysis is complete #this took so long I am sorry lmao #now I can go focus on schoolwork #and before someone says it I'll say it #snailbur effervescent

[myearts-uwu]

Bakery AU!

Pairing: Claude x Felix

Featured characters: Claude, Athanasia, Felix, Lily (at the very end of it)

Genre: Fluff. Just... it’s pure fluff in here.

This was supposed to be a single one-shot but I somehow decided to turn it into a short fic that has... two or three parts?

It’s just an adorable AU!

"York's Bakery...," Claude read out the sign displayed above the front door of the cozy-looking bakery. He hummed in disinterest. He was not exactly a huge fan of going out to buy bread or random pastries at a random bakery, let alone a bakery that had been opened for less than three months.

However, since his daughter was the one who asked if they could visit this new bakery together one day during the weekend, he had no choice but to say yes to her favour. It warmed his cold heart when her eyes lit up before smiling at him after he said that.

Why must he be such a softie for his daughter?

"Waa..."

Upon hearing the shaky breath of awe, Claude looked down and noticed the seven-year-old girl staring at the bakery with awe. Her small and chubby hand was holding onto the pinky finger of his left hand loosely.

"You seem to be excited to come here, Athanasia," he commented nonchalantly with a stoic face. He was not the best at showing his true emotions. However, his daughter knew that he was being entertained by her. "I still don't know how you've heard about this bakery, though."

Athanasia just giggled. "Oh, I always see it every day when the driver drives me to school, papa!" she answered. Of course, he wouldn't know about that small fact considering that he had never personally driven her to school. As the CEO of Obelia's Enterprises, he had to go to his office early in the morning. "And since the driver has been to this bakery before, he told me that this bakery's pastries are to die for! Es... Especially the chocolate muffins!" she exclaimed.

"Hm, I see...," Claude mumbled before ruffling Athanasia's soft blonde hair. Compared to the colour of his hair which was a more golden colour, her's leaned more on the lighter side. "Well, let's see if what Mister Han said is true and the pastries here are indeed 'to die for'. Let's go, Athanasia. We don't want to keep standing here, do we?"

Athanasia nodded and skipped towards the front door, tugging her father by his hand. Some random passersby noticed the father-daughter duo and either smiled or chuckled at the adorable scene in front of them.

Claude was about to push the door open but his own daughter had beaten him to it. She had let go of the blond's hand for a few seconds just so she could both of her hands around the door handle. As soon as she pushed the front door open, there was the sound of a small bell ringing.

Ding!

"Welcome to York's Bakery!"

The person standing behind the counter greeted the two newcomers with enthusiasm. Claude stole a small glance at the worker and the only thing he took note of was the messy bright red hair. As well as that large grin on his face that could make anyone's heart melt.

Besides that? He didn't look all that interesting to him.

All he could give the man was a curt nod for he was not someone who enjoyed talking to people.

"Hello!" Unlike him, Athanasia was a total ball of sunshine. She smiled back at the worker and waved at him. The man just chuckled and waved back.

"Why, Hello there, young lady," the man behind the counter said. "How may I help you on this wonderful afternoon?"

Claude gave the man a warning glance and he immediately tensed up. A sign for him to not act so close around the little girl. Times like these made Claude grateful that he had a natural resting bitch face. After that, he acted as if nothing had happened and picked up a tray to put the baked goods he planned on getting on.

Besides the one worker available in the bakery, Claude noticed upon entering the building the strong aromatic scent of freshly baked bread. It tingled his nose slightly due to how heavenly the smell inside the bakery was.

"Uhh... I heard that the chocolate muffins here are to die for! And I wanted to try one!" Athanasia told the man. She walked towards the front counter and pressed her face against the glass of the display case. "Whoa... you have a lot of delicious-looking desserts here."

"Hmm... they do cater a lot of baked goods here," Claude mumbled to himself as he picked out random bread he and his daughter would eat as light snacks. Sausage rolls, croissants, baguettes, buns, egg tarts, cookies... They were really selling a wide variety of baked goods. He grabbed the pair of tongs and started to do his own business.

The worker laughed at Athanasia's adorableness. "They're all freshly made, you know? Well, except for the cakes since we usually have them chilling in the refrigerator overnight." He looked around before winking at her. "But that's a secret between us, alright?" he said in a whisper.

'Someone seems to like that counter worker,' Claude thought when he heard his daughter laughing out loud. He stood in front of a tall basket made from rattan that had baguettes in it. 'Hmm... Athanasia would most definitely eat an entire long baguette as a snack in one sitting... I'm just going to get it for her.'

"You're funny, Mister!" Athanasia exclaimed while taking her hand out towards him. "My name is Athy and that grumpy man who's picking out the baked goods there is my papa!"

"... Grumpy?" Claude turned around and looked absolutely offended by how Athanasia introduced him to a random stranger. Him? Grumpy? Sure, he was not a huge fan of social interaction but that did not mean that he was entirely grumpy.

It only made him even more annoyed when the guy was laughing with her.

"Now, Miss Athy. It's rude to call your own father grumpy," he told her before gently holding her small hand to shake it. "My name is Felix, by the way. If you were wondering about my name, that is."

"Oh, I already knew what your name is," she said before pointing on the nametag that was pinned to the beige apron Felix wore.  "It's written on that nametag thingy."

"... Oh, I actually forgot that I had my nametag on me," Felix stated in slight embarrassment. He scratched the back of his head. "You have good eyes, Miss Athy."

"Athanasia."

The girl turned around to look at her father. "Yes, papa?"

"Have you picked out everything you want yet?" Claude asked while smirking. After placing the tongs in their original place, he put his free hand on his waist. "You don't want to return home without those muffins and cupcakes and cookies you were talking about before coming here now, do you?"

"Eh?! But papa, there's just so many things that I wanna try here!" Athanasia cried out. Her eyes darted around the baked goods inside the display case. "Ahh, I really wanna try those chocolate muffins... but the chocolate chip cookies look so good... Oh, but... but look at those macarons! And- And those chocolate bars with dried up fruits..."

Felix looked down at the indecisive girl and looked up at Claude. He laughed weakly. "I assume that your daughter has a strong liking to chocolate?" he asked.

"She's addicted actually," Claude answered before placing the tray on the front counter. He was going to have to pay for all these twice if Athanasia was still deciding on what she should get. "She actually had one of her teeth pulled out at the dentist last year because of a bad cavity. She kept denying that her tooth wasn't aching... but she always teared up whenever she ate anything."

Felix snorted while Athanasia looked at her father as if he had betrayed her. Which, in a way, he did.

"Papa, you promised you won't talk about that to anyone," Athanasia whined with a cute pout. She humphed. "I'm not going to talk to papa anymore!"

"Is that so?" With a calm expression on his face, Claude pulled out his wallet. "Well, good luck paying for all those desserts, then."

"Papa!" she whined again, earning more laughter from the man behind the counter.

He may not look it, but Claude knew how to be humourous... occasionally.

"M-My, you two are quite a hilarious duo," Felix commented while wiping away a tear from laughing too much. He went to the cash register to collect the blond's payment. The girl would eventually tell them what she wanted soon enough.

Claude looked around the bakery while Felix placed the baked goods he paid for into a large paper bag. "Are you the only one working here?" he asked, trying to make some light conversation even though he was not the best when it came to starting one.

"Oh, heaven's no. I'm way too inexperienced to be left working at a bakery all alone," Felix answered with a smile. "There are more people working here, believe it or not. The owner of the bakery, Lilian, is usually working behind the scenes in the kitchen. The same goes for the other ladies working here. Since I'm not that good at baking anything, I'm in charge of the front counter. Greeting customers, making sure everyone is content with the bakery's atmosphere, making sure no one steals anything from here... the usual stuff."

Felix was indeed a talker.

"... Uh-huh," was Claude's awkward response.

"Mister Felix! Mister Felix!" Athanasia called out.

Felix and Claude looked at the little girl. "Hm? Found something you like, Miss Athy?"

"... Can I get a chocolate muffin and those chocolate chip cookies? They look really tasty?"

"Of course. Oh, one moment, Sir."

"Take your time."

Claude looked at Felix who knelt down to grab a muffin as well as scooping out the cookies before putting them in separate smaller paper bags. When Athanasia approached him, he petted her head. "I thought you'd buy the whole bakery because of how indecisive you are when it comes to food."

"But papa, if I do that, then what will they sell afterwards? I don't wanna ruin their business!" Athanasia grinned innocently.

"... Well, isn't that nice of you?" Claude responded sarcastically.

Felix couldn't help but chuckle at them. "Here're your cookies and muffin, Miss," he said as he leaned forward to give the small bags to the girl after calculating the whole price of everything with the cash register.

"Yay!" Athanasia snatched the paper bags from Felix's hand. She immediately opened the bag with the cookies and pulled one out before munching on it.

Claude sighed. "Athanasia, can't you just wait for a few more minutes?" he asked her sternly. "At least eat the cookies once I'm done paying for everything."

"But... But papa. These cookies are amazing!" Her jewel blue eyes sparkled. There were a few cookie crumbs on her lips and her chubby cheeks were puffed out after eating more of the tasty snack.

Claude's shoulders dropped. "Athanasia... You're dirtying the floor with those cookie crumbs."

Felix had to stifle his own laughter. "That's okay, Sir. I can clean that up afterwards. Besides, your daughter here is obviously enjoying those cookies immensely, right Miss Athy?"

"Mhm!" Athanasia nodded her head, mouth still full with cookies inside.

Well, it was painfully clear to Claude that this worker was already smitten with his daughter... Which he couldn't really blame him for that. Even he had to admit that his daughter was a complete natural at manipulating people with her cute looks and personality.

Claude sighed and was preparing to pull out his money. "How much does everything cost... Felix?"

"That will be... exactly 13000 won."

Claude widened his eyes slightly. "... That's a pretty low price for this much we're getting," he muttered. "Especially for how high-quality everything looks."

Felix thought he had misheard something. "Low price? I... don't mean to be rude but that is a pretty high price. Not to mention that you're buying this many baked goods at once..."

"Papa could have bought everything inside this bakery if he wants to!" Athanasia chimed in. "Because papa is a big boss at a big company! A CEO!"

... Claude had to make a mental note for himself to remind him to teach Athanasia that she should not give out random personal information about either of them to strangers once they return home.

He was expecting Felix to pry more information about him being a CEO out of either him or Athanasia.

But instead, he just acted as if he didn't hear anything.

"Well, even if your father is a CEO of a large company, if he's able to sell out the entire bakery, I'm sure my boss would pass out from shock," Felix joked before pushing the large paper bag with everything Claude bought inside. "Funny story, she actually did end up passing up from shock after we were given our first ever large cake order for a wealthy child's birthday party."

"Well, I sincerely hope she won't end up passing out if more people end up ordering cakes and other pastries from this bakery," Claude responded. "She might have to go to a hospital if that happens a lot."

... Was that supposed to be a joke or something?

Claude cleared his throat from how awkward he suddenly felt and looked down at his wallet to pull out the exact amount of money he needed to pay for everything. "I'm... not that good when it comes to making jokes," he admitted.

"... Oh, that was a joke?" Felix asked.

Athanasia shook her head in disapproval. "Papa, you're terrible at making jokes. This is why people either think you're a serious grumpy man or a socially awkward man."

'When and where did she learn to be so sassy to her own father?' Claude wondered, trying to act calm.

"... Here's the money." He tried to ignore the quiet stare from Athanasia and gave the money to Felix. When he looked at him did he realise that this was the first time they made proper eye contact with each other.

For the first time since coming here, Jewel blue eyes met up with warm grey ones face to face.

Felix froze up all of a sudden, confusing Claude. He tilted his head. "Felix, are you alright?"

A few seconds later, Felix blinked multiple times before realising that he was still at work. There was a faint blush on his face and he smiled nervously. "A-Ah! My apologies," he apologised as he accepted the money. "I was... genuinely stunned at your eyes. I'm sorry if that sounds weird."

Ah, his eyes. It was considered a rare condition and the only people who had it were people in his family. The jewel blue eyes were always associated with the people within the Obelia family. His ancestors, his father, his older brother, his niece, his daughter...

Basically, they all had jewel blue eyes. The reason why? No one had any idea.

"It's alright," Claude reassured Felix. "I'm used to people being surprised by my eye colour."

"Oh, I see... Well...," Felix's words trailed off before putting the money inside the cash register. He then gave him the receipt with a warm smile. "Well, I just thought that your eyes remind me of sapphires somehow. It's nice."

"... Okay then?"

Well, this was a bit awkward.

"Papa, papa!"

"Hm?" After noticing the hem of his shirt being tugged down, Claude looked down and saw his daughter holding out a singular chocolate cookie in front of him. "... Athanasia, you know that I don't like desserts."

"But you might like it! You never know if you hate it unless you try it, papa," Athanasia told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact voice. That sort of statement sounded really weird when it's coming from a seven-year-old child. "The cookies are so delicious! Please, papa? Just one..."

Claude stared at her blankly before looking at Felix who shrugged his shoulders.

'... At least be glad that there are no customers inside other than us,' he thought begrudgingly before going down on one knee so he could be at the same eye level as Athanasia. He opened his mouth and his daughter happily fed him the single cookie. He then stood up and slowly munched on the sickeningly sweet and crunchy snack.

...

...

...

"It tastes... alright, I guess," Claude mumbled, his voice slightly muffled by the cookie in his mouth.

"See? What did I tell you? I knew you'd like it!" Athanasia said proudly with her arms folded across her chest.

Felix smiled at the girl's energetic demeanour. It seemed to Claude that he was wondering how such a small ball of energy came from someone who looked like he'd rather stay at home all day.

"Your relationship with your daughter is adorable, sir," Felix commented.

"It's Claude."

"Pardon?"

"My name. What? Since you did give my daughter your name and my daughter gave hers to you, might as well join in to not feel so left out, right?"

"O-Oh... Mister Claude?" Felix tried to say his name.

"Just drop the 'Mister'. Judging by your appearance, I wouldn't be surprised if we're around the same age," Claude told him.

"... As you wish... Claude... Ah, I'm sorry but it does feel a bit embarrassing for me to call you so casually like that when this is our first time meeting, haha!"

'... Hm. That's weird," Claude thought while he silently stared at the red-haired man who was running his fingers through his hair. For a moment he thought his heart skipped a beat. It was most likely his own mind playing tricks on him.

"If that's the case, then feel free to add in 'Sir' before saying my name," Claude said casually. He looked at his wristwatch and knew that it was time for him and Athanasia to leave this bakery. Annoyingly for him, his older brother Anastacius and his daughter Jennette were coming over soon in the evening and he had to... mentally prepare himself in order to deal with his brother.

"Well, Felix. We'll be taking our leave for today," he said before calling out Athanasia who was looking at the desserts in the display case. "Athanasia, it's time to go. Remember, your cousin is coming over."

"Okay!" Athanasia exclaimed before rushing towards him. She almost tripped but fortunately, she managed to grab Claude's shirt in time to prevent herself from falling. Giggling, she turned around and waved at Felix. "Goodbye, Mister Felix! It was nice talking to you!"

"Bye-bye, Miss Athy." Felix waved back.

Claude pulled the front door open and was about to leave the bakery but he stopped in his tracks when he heard Felix calling him.

"Sir Claude?"

"Hm?"

Claude turned his head around and looked at Felix with a surprised expression when he smiled warmly at him. A smile that would make anyone feel comforted just by looking at it.

"I hope you have a wonderful day. And please come again!" Felix said. It was something he'd say to every single customer who'd leave the bakery.

But there was something about the way he said that made it sound like he was actually looking forward to seeing Claude again.

And for some reason, Claude felt a bit... flattered by that.

"... Of course," was all he could say before leaving the bakery with his daughter. After the door closed behind them, the father-daughter made their way to his Mercedes-Benz.

The trip to the car was quiet. Athanasia was happily munching on her chocolate muffin while Claude was deep in thought about something.

"... I suppose we can make time to visit the bakery from time to time every Saturday...," Claude mumbled, still deep in thought. 'That Felix guy is quite an amusing fellow to be around.'

"Eh?!" Athanasia looked up at her father in complete shock.

That was obviously wonderful news for the girl because she really loved the snacks there.

***

Ten minutes had passed since Claude and Athanasia left the building.

"I heard a lot of laughter coming from here," Lily said as she came out of the kitchen to check up on her employee and close friend. Felix was busy sweeping the floor with a broom to get rid of the cookie crumbs on the floor. The brunette smiled and placed her hands on her hips. "You're whistling. Did something good happen to you just now?"

Felix slowly turned his head around to look at Lily. There was a goofy smile present on his handsome face. "If you consider a pretty man coming in here with his cute daughter and he's like... really pretty that you can't stop staring at him as a good thing? Then yes, something good did happen."

"... Ah, so you're in love with a customer. That's a first."

Felix chuckled to himself. "Ahh... I really do hope that they come here more often soon."

#who made me a princess #suddenly i became a princess #suddenly became a princess #suddenly became a princess one day #i suddenly became a princess #wmmap #sbapod #claude de alger obelia #athanasia de alger obelia #felix robane #wmmap claude #wmmap felix #wmmap athanasia #felix x claude #fluff #you won't be seeing any angst or smut here #It's just cute and wholesome stuff

[agoldengalaxy]

What Love Is

read on Ao3

Kyoko wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Naturally, she has a plethora of guesses as to where Makoto can be, but only one that truly makes sense to her. So she goes to check on him.

--

Kyoko was slowly getting used to waking up beside someone else. It had been terribly awkward and foreign at first, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t understand the appeal of sleeping beside a loved one.

Because of this, it was now rather strange to be alone.

She wasn’t exactly sure what woke her, but there was something quite clear to her even before she opened her eyes; the other side of the bed was unoccupied. Her arm was outstretched, but it lay across cold sheets rather than a warm chest. She opened bleary eyes, blinking as she took in the dark room. Based on the curtains covering the windows, she could tell it was still late, or maybe just early morning. The house was quiet, and she was alone.

Pushing herself to sit up, she rubbed at her eyes, the blanket dropping from her chest and into her lap. There was no use just sitting there and wondering, so she tossed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor. A shiver ran down her spine, but she walked away from the warm bed anyway, pulling one of Makoto’s jackets closer to her body.

Out of their shared bedroom, she glanced down the hallway to the right. The bathroom door wasn’t closed. It had been one of her least likely guesses, but a possibility, nonetheless. Being a detective meant she could imagine many different possibilities when a mystery presented itself. Though this was certainly less of a mystery than what she normally dealt with.

She walked on the balls of her feet, mostly out of habit, keeping her steps quiet against the old wood floor as she headed down the hallway. Her eyes slowly began adjusting to the dark as her mind adjusted to consciousness, becoming more alert the more steps she took. Reaching the end of the hallway proved her first hunch to be correct.

The small, cozy living room was normally dark at this time of night, but the curtains against the window were drawn back, allowing stray beams of moonlight to stream into the room. At first glance, it would seem that the room was empty and that someone had simply just forgotten to draw the curtains, but out of habit, Kyoko always made sure to view things as thoroughly as she was able. And to the side of the couch, peeking just above one of the armrests, was a single cowlick that never stayed down, no matter what.

Quietly, she walked around the couch, making her steps just audible enough so that she would not startle him. Even as she entered the space she knew he would be able to see through the corner of his eye, he didn’t look at her. He was sitting on the floor against the armrest of the couch, knees to his chest, and a blanket pulled around his shoulders. Brown eyes that normally held warmth were dull and glazed, probably staring at nothing in particular despite his head tilted just slightly upward, giving the impression he might have just been looking out the window.

She knew better. She knew him too well.

She would be lying if she said the sight didn’t pull at her heart. Makoto Naegi had been an enigma, the one to defrost her icy heart, and ever since, she had become almost terrifyingly soft. Memories were certainly still hazy, but no one had ever had an effect of her like he had. He was the Ultimate Hope for a reason; and maybe, for that reason, it was difficult to remember sometimes that he was still young. They both were. And no matter how many times she would deny it outwardly, their time at Hope’s Peak had had a terrible effect on both of them. She...was just better at hiding it, though Makoto always worried about her no matter what, even if he couldn’t see the feelings she kept locked inside, while his were put on display for all to see. They were complete opposites, and she loved him more than anything else in the world.

That still scared her, but she knew better than to push him away. Pushing him away had led to more disaster than she anticipated. So she learned from her mistakes, and allowing herself to be open to love and receiving it in return had proven to be a lot...nicer than she’d previously thought.

Slowly, she stepped closer, crouching beside him. “Makoto.” The second her gloved hand touched his shoulder, he gasped, shuddering and deep, blinking glaze out of his eyes to try and focus onto Kyoko’s steady gaze.

It seemed, for a moment, he forgot to breathe; and then he exhaled slowly, managing a shy smile. It was almost as if he had returned back to his normal self right away. “Ah - I’m sorry, um...did I wake you? I tried to be quiet when I got up…”

Two thoughts immediately came to mind; one, even though he was always open, he tried to keep his more serious emotions at bay, which never could slip past her even though he tried each time. And two, he most likely had no idea how long he’d been sitting there and staring into space. She had a feeling that he’d been sitting there long before she came back to consciousness.

“No, you didn’t wake me up,” she replied, slowly removing her hand from his shoulder. She had no idea what to say at first. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what he was doing here; it wouldn’t take the Ultimate Detective to figure it out. Given that it was the middle of the night and he was awake and lost in thought, it could only have been a nightmare.

They stared at each other for a few moments in that silence while she thought about it. Makoto’s shy smile didn’t waver as he slowly outstretched the arm closest to her, allowing her room to sit next to him around the blanket. “Wanna join me?”

Despite herself, and despite the situation, she couldn’t help but close her eyes for a moment, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She opened her eyes and slid in to sit beside him, pulling her side of the blanket over her shoulder. As their shoulders touched, she could feel him relax, and she couldn’t help but look over. He had returned his gaze toward the window, and in the moonlight she noticed the bags under his eyes and the way he blinked just a little slower than usual. So he was exhausted.

“...Do you want to talk about it?” This, of course, was the most logical course of action in this scenario. She kept her steady gaze on him, seeing the surprise line his features as he looked back at her, before being replaced by another small smile. She knew he knew he couldn’t fool her, though he still tried. That was just who he was. But after everything he’d done to help her, she thought it was only fair to, little by little, return the favor.

“Guess I can’t hide it from you, huh. I should know better by now.” So her guess had been proven to be right. There were a few moments of quiet which he was most likely using to gather his thoughts, eyes closed as he breathed in and out. Then he opened them again, letting out a dry laugh. “It’s kind of stupid.”

She shook her head. “Just tell me.”

He paused, then nodded, returning his gaze to the window with a sad smile, pulling his knees just a little closer to his chest. “I guess it was because I was thinking about it the other day, but I dreamed...it felt like we were back at Hope’s Peak.” His voice was soft and brittle. “I saw everyone again, and...all the bodies, the executions. All of it. It’s burned into my brain and I had to watch it all again.” He let out a shaky laugh this time. “You’d think after all this time it wouldn’t get to me as much.”

She couldn’t say she was surprised. Even while her memory had been hazy, seeing bodies hadn’t been a shock to her. But to Makoto, and mostly everyone else in their class, it had been. He had been just a normal boy before entering Hope’s Peak Academy. Thanks to Junko Enoshima, that had all changed.

Sighing, she kept her gaze on him. “Makoto, don’t you remember what you told me?”

“Huh?”

“You told me you would never get over their deaths. That you would ‘always carry them with you.’ It doesn’t matter how much time has passed.” She looked toward the window. “They were your... our friends, and they were driven to do terrible things for everyone else’s own filthy enjoyment.” That first night, when he’d said all that to her, it had been the first time she’d realized he was special. An enigma, and one to be wary of. She could almost laugh; if her past self saw where she was now, cuddled up next to that boy in the middle of the night, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

Leaning his head back against the armrest, Makoto smiled a little to himself. “Yeah, I did say that. I remember you telling me I was strong before I shouted at you.” He glanced back to her, some warmth returning to his eyes. She always loved the way he looked at her, as if she was the only woman in the world. It was stupid to think that way, or at least, she used to think that. Love...it wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought.

Kyoko reached for one of his hands, and he slowly let go of his knees, tucking them underneath himself instead. Their fingers intertwined. “You are strong. I still stand by that.”

Pink splashed across his cheeks; it wasn’t often she outright complimented him, but it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was more...she felt strange doing so. Perhaps one day she’d be able to. After all, Makoto had that certain effect on her.

“You know…” he yawned into his free hand, tired gaze shifting from the window to her. “There was one good thing about our time at Hope’s Peak.”

“Is that so?” she asked, raising a brow. “And what may that be?”

He smiled, tilting his head back to look up at the moon. “It brought me to you, of course. If anything, I’m grateful for that.”

Now it was her turn to blush. Damn Makoto, always saying things to throw her off. Even more unfortunate was that she had no response. It wasn’t as easy to fluster him anymore, not since they’d actually begun dating, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to try. And now here he was, doing it to her. All she could do was scoff lightly, though it held no indignation because a smile gave her away. Dammit. She squeezed his hand instead of saying anything, and that seemed to suffice for him. He’d always been good at reading between the lines when it came to emotion, and now was certainly no exception.

An easy silence engulfed them as they both stared up at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she could deduce that it was nearing two or three in the morning. There wasn’t much else to be said, so they didn’t. Besides, in a situation like this, she’d learned that just being there was enough. Speaking wasn’t always necessary.

Still, it was getting late. She was grateful she had woken up, even though she was certain he would have been fine on his own. Being someone’s girlfriend meant one had to care, and she certainly cared a whole lot more than she ever meant to. But was it really such a bad thing? She’d always been terrified of losing things; losing people like how she had lost her father. Makoto had taught her a lot of things; trust, hope, faith. He taught her how to no longer be afraid of these things. Most importantly, though, he allowed her to learn how to love again.

As she was beginning to think they should head back to bed, something caught the corner of her eye. Glancing to the side, she noticed his eyes were closed, chin dipping down toward his chest. His hand was limp in hers.

She found herself staring fondly for a few moments. He was so unbelievably stubborn, and though it could be infuriating, it was also endearing. The paradox was just fitting for a mystery like Makoto Naegi.

A part of her knew she ought to nudge him, to drag him back to bed with her so they could get some proper rest. But looking at him now, seeing the bags under his eyes in the shadow of moonlight, she didn’t have the heart to do it. He’d softened her in the way no one else had. Was that what love was? Well, she wasn’t sure if it was the same for everyone, but that was what it was to her, at least.

Love, to Kyoko, was Makoto.

She reached up, gently placing her hand on the opposite side of his head, guiding it to rest on her shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath, nuzzling his head closer, and then lay still. Now that she was alone, she smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket more snugly around him, gently placing a kiss to the top of his head. Leaning her head back against the armrest, her eyes took in the moon one more time.

His breaths, soft and even against her collarbone, were a comfort she never knew she wanted. And as she closed her eyes, her tired brain decided to voice one last thought. “I love you.”

As she drifted, though, she could have sworn she heard a mumbled response that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

#danganronpa #dangan ronpa #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #naegiri #dr1 #this is like #the sweetest thing I think I've ever written #im sorry if you vomit #I just #love them #the character development #it's everything #ugh #anyway enjoy #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

[stxphxn-strange]

moments we had and suddenly lost

a/n: wanted to write smth self indulgent and fun and sweet and cozy, this was the result. for most of it. sorry not sorry for the ending (tw for character death though)

“Did you see the way Bruce just spoke to me in the groupchat?!” Stephen asked, not at all angry but very surprised.

“Finals stress is probably hitting,” Christine replied. “I keep suggesting he tries meditation.”

“You’ve suggested that to everyone.”

“And none of you so far have listened!”

“... okay true.”

Christine rolled her eyes at Stephen conceding. “Where’s Ant?”

“Studying with Carol and Rhodey I think,” Stephen said, not yet realizing that someone had just gotten home. “Or in class, I don’t remember if he said his class was meeting today or not.”

“It wasn’t,” Anthony replied from the mudroom. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, stretching in place for a moment. “Hi Christine.”

Christine waved with the hand that wasn’t busy highlighting her notes, glancing up slightly as Anthony crossed the room.

“Rhodey’s still out?” Stephen asked. He looked up from his computer, reaching out for his boyfriend.

Anthony nodded. “He went to get lunch and run errands with Carol and I think someone else. I dunno, I came home because I’m tired.”

“I’m not surprised, you haven’t slept more than a few hours this entire week,” Stephen replied. He kept his voice low and soothing, partly to ensure he didn’t distract Christine from her reading.

“Hence why I’m admitting exhaustion-induced defeat! I’m going to take a nap,” Anthony said. “If I’m not up in an hour will you wake me up please?”

“An hour and ten?” Stephen suggested.

Anthony sighed fondly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Go get your sleep,” Stephen murmured, hugging him close. Anthony was half sitting on him at this point, but neither of them minded much. “And get under a blanket, you’re fucking freezing.”

“It’s cold out!” Anthony replied. He softly kissed Stephen’s hair. “Good luck with studying, both of you.”

“Thanks man. I’m going to dinner with Hope later tonight so that’s making this a little more bearable. I can’t stand your boyfriend,” Christine said, throwing in a friendly dig at Stephen.

Anthony laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, I can’t either.”

“What did I do to deserve this treatment?” Stephen asked, unable to hide his amusement and laughing with them.

“I’m obviously kidding, you’re good to study with. And a half decent friend I guess,” Christine replied.

Stephen flipped her off and pretended to scowl, his facial expression softening as Anthony kissed him again.

“I’m going to go sleep,” Anthony said. He pulled Stephen in for one last kiss. “Love you lots, good luck!”

Stephen smiled. “I love you too. I’ll wake you up after an hour and 10.”

“Thank you!” Anthony called as he left the room. He was already forming a plan to steal one of Stephen’s hoodies and nap in it, thinking about what music to listen to while he rested.

++++

Christine left at the same time Stephen’s alarm went off, reminding him that he promised to wake Anthony up. He didn’t want to, knowing his sleep deprived boyfriend could really use more rest, but too long of a nap would keep him from falling asleep later that night.

“There aren’t enough hours in the day,” Stephen muttered to himself as he headed towards his room.

“Amen,” Wong called from his own room, the door slightly ajar.

Stephen poked his head in. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Because I’m being quiet, obviously. I’m meeting Pepper and Loki to study with them, and I think Bucky is coming too,” Wong replied. He was neatly arranging his backpack, filling it to the brim with books and notepads.

“Got everything?” Stephen teased.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me? Go bother Ant,” Wong replied mirthfully, taking his laptop out of his bag to quickly repack the whole thing.

“He’s sleeping! I was on my way to wake him up, forgive me for wanting to check on you,” Stephen bantered back.

Wong just rolled his eyes, giving Stephen a good natured shove as he passed him in the doorway. “I’ll see you later, good luck with whatever you’re doing for the rest of the day.”

“You too,” Stephen replied, finishing his trip to his room as Wong continued in the opposite direction. His heart burst when walked in to see Anthony still sleeping and wearing one of his hoodies.

He looked so comfortable and relaxed for once in his damn life, and Stephen hated to disrupt him just as much as he hated breaking his word. He gently shook Anthony’s shoulder a few times before beginning to brush his hair back from his face. It was about two minutes later when Anthony woke up, blinking in love and annoyance while expelling the stray sleep from his eyes.

“As much as I hate waking you up from your rare moments of sleep, this drowsiness is cute on you,” Stephen murmured. “Good nap?”

Anthony huffed in exasperation and pushed his head against Stephen’s hand. “Too short.”

“I know,” Stephen soothed, continuing to play with his boyfriend’s hair. “Sometimes it feels like no amount of sleep is ever enough to feel rested. Even when I slept for 11 hours that day I was still tired.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Anthony quipped, still a bit out of it. “How was your studying?”

“It went well. I’m not going to worry about this test tomorrow morning, I’m just going to try and relax tonight,” Stephen said, ignoring the first thing Anthony said. He smirked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take his next words seriously. “Maybe I’ll even to go sleep at a decent hour.”

That... didn’t happen. It just didn’t. 

One (1) coffee driven all-nighter later, they sleepily headed off to take their respective last exams of the semester. Stephen’s exam was earlier in the day, but Anthony went with him when he left “for good luck.” That was only half true, he just wanted any reason to be around Stephen and vehemently told him that.

“Anthony I adore and appreciate you but you really didn’t have to walk with me,” Stephen said. “You could’ve slept before your test.”

Anthony scoffed. “I really don’t think a power nap would have any effect. Besides, I want all the time with you I could possibly have.”

They stopped walking in the hallway, Stephen looking at Anthony with a loving gaze and smiling at him. “I can’t wait until break starts.”

“We’re almost done,” Anthony replied. “Aside from waking up early for our flight tomorrow, we’ll be able to sleep in for the next few weeks!”

“We’ll be able to try and sleep in,” Stephen corrected him.

“We’re saying the same thing,” Anthony said with a little laugh that made Stephen smile even more.

“All I want to do is lay on the beach with you at least once while we’re away,” Stephen said.

“That can be arranged,” Anthony replied fondly. He looked up as a clock chimed somewhere in the building.

Stephen yawned. “That’s my cue to go and look over my notes before the exam.”

Anthony nodded and pulled him close again. “Good luck! You’ve got this, I love you,” he murmured against Stephen’s lips, kissing him between each clause.

“I love you too, see you at home?” Stephen replied.

“Of course. Pep and I are going to lunch after we’re done at 12:30, text me if you need or want anything and I’ll bring it,” Anthony said.

“I might be asleep, I’m taking a fucking nap before Bucky’s party tonight,” Stephen said. “Or not-party. Whatever it is.” 

++++

Despite the fact that no one outside the friend group was there, Bucky’s game night/dinner quickly spiraled into a full on party. There was dancing and snacks and jokes, everyone finally relaxing for the first time in weeks. Tired as everyone was, partying and dancing the night away was a good way to get rid of the last bit of final exam and grade stress. Grade point averages didn’t matter, just friends and memories. And because they were... themselves, Stephen and Anthony were late. 15 minutes late was actually pretty good for them, but their tardiness was always amusing to their friends. 

“We would’ve gotten here earlier had Anthony not changed his shirt three times,” Stephen explained to a fondly exasperated Bucky.

“I only had time to do that because you fell asleep! And you had the audacity to be annoyed with me for waking you up, even though you asked me to,” Anthony replied.

Stephen didn’t say much, unable to argue with that. “I hate to say it, but you’re right.”

“At least you’re cute about being woken up,” Anthony said, unable to refrain from teasing him. “Your tired face reminds me of my sister’s cat when she’s angry.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Stephen rolled his eyes.

“May I host my damn party please?” Bucky tapped his foot impatiently. “Are you done with this interruption or can I finish talking?”

“Honestly I thought you were done,” Stephen replied sincerely.

“I don’t think Bucky is ever truly done talking!” Sam called from another room.

“Hm, you both have that in common,” Stephen said to Bucky and Anthony.

“Oh hush,” Anthony quipped, looking at Stephen with nothing but love in his eyes. 

“Conveniently for you bickering jackasses, we’re telling embarrassing stories about each other. Basically you have to tell a story while the rest of us decide if it’s a true story or not, and we can ask three clarifying questions.” Bucky had a fiendish look in his eye as he explained the game. “And since you were late, I think it’s fair we put one of you on the spot.”

“I think we know an appropriate amount about each other already,” Wong muttered jokingly. 

“You don’t want to hear about the time Loki stabbed me with safety scissors when we were kids?” Thor asked. “Rude.” 

“That’s all you ever talk about, and I said I was sorry!” Loki replied. “At least I didn’t get banned from Michael’s for a few years... Hela.” 

“I’ll dump my wine on your head,” Hela said in an icy voice. 

“Not on my white carpet!” Bucky muttered. 

“Hey how much do you want to bet that the Odinsons are going to start wrestling by the end of the night?” Wong asked Stephen as he and Anthony sat down and joined the others.

“Oh they definitely will. If they don’t I’ll buy you a sandwich when we come back from break,” Stephen replied. “Anthony will you be a witness for this incredibly stupid bet Wong and I are about to shake on?” 

Anthony, curled up against Stephen’s side, nodded with a yawn.

“Great. If the Odinsons don’t piss each other off enough to start fighting, Stephen owes me a sandwich,” Wong declared. They sealed the bet with a very gentle high five, Stephen loosely lacing his finger’s with Wong’s. 

Wong dropped his hand. “We’re not close enough to be that affectionate,” he said teasingly.

“Aww but I’m tired! I want to hold hands with everyone,” Stephen mumbled. “Anthony will you hold me?” 

“Anytime baby,” Anthony replied, pulling Stephen into a hug. 

Both Stephen and Anthony were extremely physically affectionate, even more so when they were tired. The long week drained them of their energy and stole 90% of their snark, leaving them “annoyingly snuggly” according to their friends. When they got home from the party, Rhodey rolled his eyes at how clumsy they were, completely sober but completely exhausted. 

Anthony didn’t even bother changing out of his suit when they got home, brushing his teeth and collapsing into bed as soon as possible. He left the lights dimmed, just bright enough so Stephen could see while he was in the bathroom. Anthony was almost asleep when his phone rang, annoyed at the interruption until he saw who was calling. 

“Buona sera, Mamma,” He greeted her warmly but sleepily. 

“It’s a bit late to be considered evening, isn’t it?” Maria asked. “How was the party? Or was it not a party? I don’t remember.”

“It ended up turning into a party and it was only our friends there! But it was super fun, we’re just really tired,” Anthony replied. “We’re getting up in a few hours for our flight.” 

He looked up as Stephen ran into something and cursed colorfully. 

“You okay?” Anthony asked, holding the phone a bit away from his face. 

“I tripped over my bag,” Stephen replied, unceremoniously laying on top of him. He was also still wearing his suit, knowing he’d probably sleep more comfortably in PJs but at this point it was too late to care. 

“Stephen’s been clumsy again,” Anthony informed his mother. 

“He says that as if he didn’t almost fall down the stairs this morning,” Stephen added. 

Maria rolled her eyes on the other end of the call. “Stop bickering and get some sleep, you two. I’ll see you Sunday, okay? Anthony I was just calling to see how the end of your week went, we can talk more tomorrow.” 

“It went well! I just can’t wait to spend time on the beach and see you and Natasha,” Anthony replied. 

He could hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she replied. “I’m excited too. I’ll let you get some sleep now, sweet dreams! I love you.” She was talking to them both, their happiness warming her heart. Maria smiled when they said they loved her too. Stephen was basically her son-in-law at that point (she even addressed him as such), and she couldn’t wait to see them both.

Stephen was asleep before Anthony even hung up the phone. He meant to set an alarm, knowing Anthony had one set but they both had a tendency to oversleep. It would just be an extra precaution, a “just-in-case,” but at the time he was too tired to set it. 

Luckily, something was on their side and they were begrudgingly awake on time. They met an equally tired Bucky in the morning, their only relief being that they could try to sleep on the flight.

“I’m buying a coffee at the earliest possible opportunity,” Bucky said as soon as they got to the airport. 

“You sound like Anthony,” Stephen remarked. 

“In this one instance maybe. You guys have more in common than most people I’ve ever met,” Bucky replied. “But I guess that makes sense because you’ve known each other since the beginning of time, you’re basically the same person.” 

“That’s not true! I’m taller,” Stephen said. 

“You asshole,” Anthony quipped. He yawned and leaned closer to Stephen as they walked towards their gate. “Bucky what kind of coffee do you even drink? I thought you didn’t like it.” 

“Somehow Sam convinced me that cappuccinos are good,” Bucky replied.

“They are,” Anthony insisted.

“Oh I agree, but as far as Sam knows I’m still on the fence about them. I can’t have him thinking he’s right,” Bucky said humorously.

Anthony winked at Stephen before replying. “True. If he finds out he’s right you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I hate you,” Stephen said, his words betrayed by his loving tone and the way he reached for Anthony’s hand.

“It’s going to be such a long flight sitting next to you two idiots,” Bucky muttered. 

Stephen was unsure if he scoffed or laughed at his friend. “We won’t bother you, at least I won’t. I’m going to sleep at, as you put it, the earliest possible opportunity.”

He fell asleep before the plane took off, resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder and staying as close to him as possible. Anthony didn’t mind Stephen’s using him as a human neck pillow and fell asleep shortly after, leaving Bucky with peace, quiet, and a chance to take embarrassing photos of them (to send to the groupchat later). They slept for almost 75% of the flight, just in time to hear the announcement that it’d be landing early. Bucky, concerned about missing his connecting flight to Vancouver, relaxed at that news and closed his eyes to sleep until they landed.

“We could go to the beach today, if you’d like,” Anthony suggested softly, still waking up. “Of course we have a bit of a trip to take before we’re home, and there’s no telling what traffic will be like when we land, but we could probably go for a bit.”

Stephen hummed in agreement. The beach wasn’t far from Anthony’s house, and there would be plenty of time over the holiday. He’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t entice him. He didn’t say much of anything out loud, but smiled as Anthony kissed his head as if to say he understood.

++++

“Bucky are you all good for time?” Stephen asked as they walked through the airport. It was a relief that they landed early, even more of a relief that LAX was surprisingly quiet.

Bucky shrugged his backpack over his shoulder, looking at his phone and presumably checking his flight information. “Yeah I’m good, I have about an hour.”

“Want company while you wait?” Stephen offered.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Bucky said, shooing them away. “Go home and sleep or go to the beach or some shit. Be safe okay?”

“You too, have a good flight Buck,” Anthony replied.

“Why are you saying that like I’m in control of the plane? I didn’t go to flight school,” Bucky quipped.

“What would we ever do without your snark?” Stephen teased. “How are we going to survive the whole break without you Bucky?”

“The two of you are snarky enough for each other, you know that. But if it’d make you feel better, I’ll roast you the next time I see you,” Bucky offered. He then added, mostly to himself, “Or in the groupchat.”

“What was that last thing you said?” Anthony asked, vaguely registering what Bucky said.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you guys!” Bucky replied, effectively ending the conversation. He smiled as the couple waved to him and continued walking through the airport, automatically finding their way to holding hands.

It was just under half an hour later when they left the airport, preparing for a scenic drive with hopefully minimal traffic.

Stephen glanced at Anthony as they got into his car, putting on his sunglasses. “How does it feel to be so bright that you put the sun to shame?”

Anthony shrugged, lightly tapping the steering wheel. “I dunno Steph, you tell me.”

“We’re not talking about me, douche” Stephen replied.

“Really? It seems like we are,” Anthony murmured. “Is there anything you want to get on the way home?”

“I don’t think so,” Stephen said with a yawn. “I’m just tired.”

Anthony nodded in agreement. “I don’t blame you, I don’t feel like doing much of anything today, we can see how we feel once we get in.”

“I don’t care what we do, I just want to be around you,” Stephen said breathlessly. He was still holding onto last night’s exhaustion, which only made him even more affectionate (and Stephen knew himself to be an extremely affectionate person as it was). 

He couldn’t help but smile when Anthony told him the feeling was mutual. 

++++

The next day, Anthony woke up to his phone ringing and at least 60 missed notifications from almost everyone he knew (mostly family). His mailbox was probably full from the amount of calls he got, everyone from his sister to his mother’s assistant trying to reach him. It was a sharp contrast to their afternoon spent lazing on the beach and by the pool, their air of panic almost tangible in Anthony’s phone.  

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, quietly enough so he didn’t wake up Stephen. He’d just scrolled through all of the various missed call, voicemail, and text notifications when Natasha called him again.

It was the combined noise of the annoying ringtone and Anthony slipping out of bed that woke Stephen up, the med student pouting slightly. “Anthony turn your alarm off.”

“I’m sorry Steph. It’s not my alarm though, my phone’s ringing. I’ll be back, I think my sister needs something,” Anthony replied. He softly kissed Stephen’s cheek before going into the kitchen to see what was going on.

Natasha didn’t answer Anthony’s text, calling him instead. “Do you really not know what happened?

“Good morning to you too,” Anthony replied. “And no, will you please tell me? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Hold on,” Natasha said. She hung up, only to call him back from their grandmother’s home phone. “Okay I’m back.”

“I thought you and Nonna were going to get Mom from the airport, what are you doing home?” Anthony asked.

“We—”

“Did the flight get delayed? I haven’t heard from Mamma since yesterday, she missed my calls,” Anthony continued.

Natasha became increasingly sad and frustrated with her brother as he kept interrupting her. He wasn’t doing it to be hurtful or dismissive, the siblings regularly talked over each other and it was in Anthony’s nature to speak his stream of consciousness aloud. Just this once Natasha needed him to listen first, to tether him to reality if only this one time. “Yeah, because—”

“I was hoping I’d have a call from her when I woke up, but she’s one of the only people I haven’t heard from today. Even her assistant called me, and he doesn’t usually—”

“Chiudi il becco! Per amor di Dio, chiudi quella cazzo di bocca e ascoltami!” Natasha snapped.

“Mi dispiace.” Anthony apologized immediately, hearing how upset Natasha was. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at the news,” Natasha replied, her voice shaking.

“Should I be looking for something specific?” Anthony asked, turning the TV on. “They’re about to go to a commercial, and—”

The rest of his response was cut off as he dropped his phone in shock.

Stephen was just falling into heavy sleep when he heard something crash, followed by frantic cursing from the kitchen. He sat up and was about to go see what was wrong when his phone rang, announcing a call from Rhodey. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“I just called Tones but he didn’t pick up and his mailbox is full, I was only calling to say that I’m so sorry and I hope the both of you are okay,” Rhodey said. “And obviously my family and I are here if you need.”

“What are you talking about? ... Did something happen? We just woke up, Ant went to go talk to Natasha,” Stephen replied.

“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you,” Rhodey said. “You guys can call me later if you feel up to it, okay?”

Stephen was still super confused, his concern increasing as he heard Anthony swearing again. “Okay, thanks Rhodey.”

He tossed his phone aside and stood up, walking a bit faster than normal for a sleepy Saturday. The situation, whatever it was, was too cryptic and Stephen was almost afraid of whatever he was about to find out. He was relieved when Anthony hugged him tightly, relieved that he hadn’t fainted the way Stephen worried originally. 

Even still, he was inconsolable and shaking like a leaf seconds away from falling to the ground. Anthony stumbled over his words, sentences turning into high pitched sobs as he tried to explain what happened. He eventually broke the hug and moved to sit in another room, still trembling as Stephen sat beside him. Anthony was close to panicking, needing comfort as much as he wanted to curl up alone and hide. He laid with his head on Stephen’s lap, his eyes staring sightlessly at the rug his mother picked specifically for this room and this house. He’d turned the television off after seeing the headline for the first time, refusing to accept it. He was still holding onto the remote, debating whether or not to turn the news channel back on as Stephen began to comfortingly pet his hair. Eventually he decided to do it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to say the truth himself. 

Anthony was stubborn, even in his worst and most painful moments, and forced himself to try anyway. “They hadn’t gotten to the airport yet,” he said, his voice strained from crying. 

Stephen, who’d been looking at him the whole time, just hummed and waited to see if Anthony would say anything else. 

He didn’t, and he didn’t need to as the anchorwoman on TV said everything there was to say. Stephen felt his blood turn to ice as he heard the story, each word in the anchor’s professional tone hurting more than the last. 

“Good morning and breaking news if you’re just joining us. Howard and Maria Stark were reported dead early this morning just outside of New York City, following what looks like a collision with at least one other vehicle in a major accident. Sources are unsure of exactly what happened and where, but the Starks were confirmed dead at the scene. They were reportedly on their way to JFK airport when the collision took place, Mr. Stark himself at the wheel. More updates to follow as we receive more information...”  

tags: @atypical-snowman @stark-strange-love2 @h3mmy @kiwidino @chocopiggy @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange @maya-custodios-dionach @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @thespacecryptid @ocforeverything

#tony stark #stephen strange #ironstrange #my ironstrange college au #tw character death #tw death #Maria Stark is an angel #Natasha romanoff #reminder that Tony and Natasha are half siblings #christine palmer #christine x hope van dyne #james rhodey rhodes #james bucky barnes #sambucky #Wong #thor odinson #bruce banner #ThorBruce (mentioned) #Hela and Loki #also lemonade is better than orange juice #orange juice isn’t even good #i just didn’t know what to title their gc

[suspiciouslybluemilktea]

The Passed Out Princess Chapters 1-2

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Content warning: Descriptions of throwing up, passing out, and meal skipping. Every food related issue mentioned is strictly medical, and based on my own condition.

This was written under the assumption that you have played Ray’s route in full, so route spoilers ahead! This takes place during the very beginning of day 8, and according to the timings and contents of the chat rooms, it would take place before Saeran cuts contact with the RFA and before he installs a camera to monitor MC in her room. It is timed to match closely around to when I’d get sick myself.

My CMC’s condition deals chronic with low blood sugar, meaning she has to eat to keep it up or suffer the consequences as seen here. It is not diabetes related, it is something she is born with as am I and is linked to more complicated matters I left out to keep it simple. Some symptoms include: growing light headed, severe dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and passing out. See all chapters

I wrote this with flexibility for whichever HC for Saeran you follow (DID or BPD), because whether or not he has one of the following, Rika has drilled it in his head that Ray and Saeran are separate entities, and Saeran views it this way. Consider it written the way Cheritz writes him, with nothing exactly too set.

To make things easier for myself, I’m uploading multiple chapters on each post, chapters only separated by lines. Here is 1 and 2

Ping!

The sound of Dan’s phone alerted her to rise and greet the day with a new chat room open.

As the morning sun took its place in the clear blue sky, the little woman sat up in her big bed, bangs sticking out in all directions as her head thumped with a dull pain. Hunger induced pain, she noted, as her stomach felt empty.

Despite the beauty of this early morning, the light pouring through the windows creating a rosy glow which engulfed the princess room; there was no beautiful light shining on the brunette’s new situation, seeming so dreary and dim.

Uyu still found herself wrapped up in this place, whisked away to a castle tucked deep within mountains known as Magenta. Every corner of the building was constructed brick by brick with a beautifully ornate architectural design, but the bright exterior was only a façade. If she was left caged like this for long, what would become of her? Driven to insanity, perhaps she’d attack and claw at the walls which confined her, unable to turn her anger to Saeran, the real victim in all this. The “savior” made it clear she was the true ruling figure who lurked about as the moon rose, the mastermind behind this place’s pain and suffering.

The night before, after being so kindly introduced to “Saeran”, this golden-haired angel confirmed herself to be quite the wicked witch of the west indeed, and it took everything out of Uyu to not call her harsher names to her face.

Mint Eye was hell redecorated to wear the guise of heaven, but pretty gardens and saccharine words could not fool her. Because Dan wore no wool over her eyes, the savior had no intention of allowing her to live long enough to become the new narrator of “The Yellow Wallpaper”; and she had no shoes to click together at the heel to wish her way home with who she came here for originally.

Just as Ray’s suit did, he changed, flipping like a light switch.

Saeran, the name V previously called him by, did succeed in giving her a good fright, his attitude being the least thing she expected to see after Ray’s earlier sobs over the phone.

Uyu was mainly focused on one solid question after their encounter, though. Just what did that “cleansing” entail in full detail? What did this place do to him, to make him weep and beg for a warm hand to hold one minute, only to push back and try to scare her the next?

It was as if he was caught, dragged by the feet somewhere inescapable, a pit damp and dark down under; rising from a shivering grave cold to the touch.

If it weren’t for her position, she wouldn’t have allowed it.

Now more than ever, this room built on the foundation of fantasy and delight felt like a birdcage which barely allowed her to wiggle an arm through its bars. She relied on her song, her sweet words which Ray claimed to tickle at his heart and hold a power over him like no other before. Her goal, of course, was to use this for good, influencing him to learn to appreciate and care for himself like he should. But now, she felt unable to do even that much, not that she’d give up trying.

Saeran wished to dismiss her and her actions entirely, evident from his need to spew the fact that he bestowed upon her the label of being less than a person, his toy. His play thing.

That sick twisting she felt pooling in her gut upon first hearing the term “cleansing” seemed all too in place.

Ray, as sweet as her prince charming was, had a knack for leaving out important details about this museum of wonder. To her best guess, it was done to avoid panic as none of what went on here could be viewed as normal, or ok. He only briefly mentioned things like the “elixir”, such as on the night V arrived to spiral this place’s plans into chaos.

That was the night she could officially mark a great importance in staying, despite the vast network of lies.

Uyu wasn’t entirely stupid, she had an idea of what the elixir might be a while back, but it was still hard to process regardless.

Saeran threatened to give her one of these cleansing ceremonies...and said he could “draw out the maximum pain in the process”, telling her whatever happened to him hurt. A “no duh” moment indeed, but it was confirmation.

Ray suffered, for no reason other than he was too enwrapped in his blooming feelings for her, something that shouldn’t be taken as a negative but was. It displeased the savior that his chains which bound him by the ankles began to jingle with his new yearning to take flight.

She couldn’t allow herself to lie down and give the savior the satisfaction of breaking her, not when she still had so much to do, and not when Saeran and the RFA were at risk.

As the cool night-time air blew around them, feeling its whisper through her long locks of hair, Ray opened up about Mint Eye’s beliefs as a sanctuary for the “weak”, who had no choice but to lock themselves away to avoid further hurt.

He clearly viewed himself as someone in this category. Weak. But Saeran? Saeran shoved and shouted, which felt like a complete opposite to Ray’s whimpers and pleading. He even went as far as to accuse her of manipulation, of treating Ray like a puppet as she watched him dance to the harp she plucked.

Looking past his outburst and itch to watch her squirm, there stood a man seething with hate sparked entirely by twisted lies and his own fears. He gave himself away rather quickly as he attempted to say she messed with “hisna vefeelings” for some “big plan”.

She had to trust that there were boundaries he wouldn’t cross, being so close to her and forceful...and that was where her panic truly lied. But for now, she’d bank on the idea that he just wanted to scare her, staying alert in case he went too far. There were vases around from Ray’s various gifts that could be used as a weapon during the extreme. Unlike her, Saeran had no fighting skills either, but currently she was a bit too ill for those measures.

For once, a room so pink made her feel neither cozy nor at home.

Uyu’s fuzzy morning vision was then attracted to a black blob hanging on the doorknob. With a little eye rub, she made it out to be a dress, and a rather pretty one at that. In the way it was cut, it would expose much of her shoulders and upper back, the top front of it connected to a bow tied around the back of a neck piece with strings of fabric; like an attached choker. She could only assume it was a “gracious gift” bestowed upon her from the man she saw take Ray’s place. Apparently, he has a thing for black.

Her little device chimed again, and then once more, third time giving her the last push of annoyance she needed to reach over and respond to the opened chatroom.

She sighed with relief seeing Seven was the person active online, as she could now pester him with questions about what he was seeing on his end of the fight. They typed away, Uyu expressing concern for both of the hackers as they discussed Ra-Saeran’s new careless and aggressive tactics to snag him a victory.

As time passed, Jumin joined to ask questions as well, mainly circling around the governmental commendation from the Prime Minister to recognize the RFA for their charity work. Uyu stuck to her gut and pushed against the idea of it being a complete positive.

While both V and Seven acted oddly around the idea of the commendation, the RFA was also just a small organization which had only held two parties previous to Rika’s “passing”. The award was too fishy to trust in her judgment, especially now that she understood things going on around here weren’t at all what they had seemed to be.

Mint Eye wasn’t the only organization she was caught in that held its secrets.

After a bit of talking, Jumin agreed that the prime minister’s reasoning had to be figured out before any final decisions could be made. Everyone logged off, Seven returning to the battlefield and Jumin to stitching in his car.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The need for food grew worse.

Uyu showered and changed into the outfit provided…not having much of a choice to do otherwise unless she wanted to rewear old clothing. She felt down and sluggish as she dressed the way her toy maker willed, the dark frills of her attire tickling against her thighs as her step dragged. She was still ok enough to make herself look presentable, even if done at such a pace.

Her hair changed to a solid dark brown color as it took in the shower water, the gold ombré reaching her tips returning upon giving it a blow dry, making sure Saeran would have less to scoff next he saw her. She wasn’t aiming to avoid his crude comments, but instead trying to make herself feel good. Call her smelly all he wants, she knows she isn’t.

Saeran was aiming to play into her insecurities, maybe full well knowing she had so very many of them as he tried to wind her up. The least she could do was confirm his lies to be lies in the ways she knew how, if not for him then for her. She couldn’t allow him to figure out what made her gears stop, whether his words were true or not. This was no game of knife throwing, and she was no target.

11:00 AM crept up on her as she moped around quietly in her dollhouse, waiting for Saeran to come and try to take a good yanking on her marionette strings.

Dan sat upon the bed as the empty-headed feeling and banging in her temple raged, shifting to lay down fully and make herself more comfortable. If she stood for too long, she’d sway and wobble as her vision turned to black, purple and green swirls, momentarily clouding both her sight and mind.

Despite her numerous texts and occasional calls, she still heard nothing from Saeran. Not a peep.

She was growing restless as well as worried for him, and what would become of her as she continued to go unfed.

Her phone buzzed, shifting her attention over to it groggily, eyes half lidded as she wanted to sleep off this sinking feeling. Soon, she’d start to go down like the Titanic as lunch time acted as her iceberg.

Uyu hoped it was her self-proclaimed master, only to let out a grumble seeing that it wasn’t. Instead, it was Zen who had logged on.

She chatted with him, trying her best not to voice her ever-growing discomfort from skipping last night’s dinner as well as that morning’s breakfast, lunch time now creeping just around the corner.

After a quick talk, she’d call Saeran again...as uncomfortable as that conversation would be, it was her only viable option to kill the onslaught of nausea.

As they talked for a while, Yoosung joined the conversation as well….with talk of food; stew he was in the middle of making to be precise. She felt her stomach churn and rumble as the need for rest fell over her like a weighted blanket, being the only escape from the inevitable vomit now building up inside.

She logged off within another couple of seconds as the hot sweat began.

Dan swallowed thickly as her stomach went haywire, guts twisting, coaxing her to run to the toilet and empty out the water she could at least keep herself going on from the bathroom tap.

Leaving her phone on the bed, she rose to her feet best she could, stumbling till she reached the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. There, she fell to her knees, pulling her long hair back and away from her damp face, lifting up the toilet seat before her.

Within a mere moment, she felt the contents claw at the inside of her throat with a burning sensation, attempting to break free. She shuddered as her body suddenly fell in temperature, before allowing whatever her tummy could offer up to slip past her lips, color in her face all too faded away, displaying her illness. Gagging and choking noises echoed throughout the small room as the rather clearish liquid flowed from her mouth, tears from the discomfort blurring her vision as she blinked them away.

She stayed like that by the toilet for a while, throwing up a couple more times before making certain that event was over for the time being. Uyu considered herself extremely lucky that none was able to touch her or end up in her hair, but not nice to say vomiting wasn’t new to her. She knew the tricks.

Oddly, when something like this would happen, it gave her a tiny amount of strength back. It was strangely relieving, although emptying her stomach further. Her tummy was able to untense a tad.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes before giving it all a flush down.

A fast teeth brush followed before she stumbled over to bed where she had left her phone. She fiddled with the RFA app until she could reach Saeran’s contact profile. Trying not to let the dread of being ignored again wash over her, she dialed up his number, both nervous and praying this time for a response.

After that last fit was over, her condition would move her into another stage, passing out being the only thing to come next without the blood sugar spike she needed.

The ringing went on for what felt like an eternity as she groaned and pressed her face into the pillow.

“Pick up...pick up damn it please pick up…”.

Uyu wished that she had made a bigger fuss over this earlier rather than attempting to swallow it and wait it out. Being distracted by “the savior” and Saeran’s screaming was something she shouldn’t have allowed herself to do in the midst of endangering her own health. What was she thinking? She knew it would reach this point, it always does if left unchecked. She internally cursed herself for not speaking up more assertively.

After another moment, his angry voice finally came through the speaker and she sighed softly with relief. The last she had heard from him was at four in the morning.

“Feeling this lonely and desperate already, hmm? Tch...what makes you think you have the right to contact me over and over again when I’m doing important work unlike you?”

She huffed on the other end, which he paid no mind.

“All you do is fiddle around like a good for nothing. You didn’t seem so happy to chat with me last time we spoke, but now you’re all eager and ready? You’re just itching for another visit aren’t you? Impatient little princess~.”

He let out an airy chuckle, finding her repeated acts of calling him rather amusing.

“Don’t worry. I have play time all planned out for you soon, you pest. I’ll bother you ten times more than you ever bothered me-”

She cut off his angry rambling, mumbling quietly as she spoke.

“Saeran...can you please come here? I’m not well right now and I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself functioning...I already threw up-”

“Speak up, you complainer! Seriously? You want to see me so badly that you’d put on an elaborate show? Princess...you can’t win any sort of sympathy from me by acting like a brat. Ugg, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll be imagining the million ways I can punish you for this later, stupid toy. I’m busy! Too busy for a bug like you to understand! You waste my time-”

“Wait please...please come here...it’s harder for me to explain over the phone. I...mentioned this problem earlier..please…”

And she had, briefly attempting to bring it up as he invaded a chat room between her and Jaehee.

“Begging now?”

He took on a sad tone of childish mockery as he continued.

“Please please please...please come see me... AHAHA! You airhead. I know what your medical records look like, and therefore I know you’re spinning a lie. You’re not to be trusted just as my savior says. There’s nothing there pertaining to some sort of eating issue other than the fact that your weak little body can’t handle milk…‘Uyu’~.”

He teased at her chosen nickname, and while the irony was why it was picked, this was less than fun.

“Now quit whining over an empty stomach when it hasn’t even been a full day! It’s no fun to see you give up so fast!”

Dan tried her best not to slur her speech, the task assigned to speak up being too hard of one to follow.

“Fine...fine don’t believe me. But…..it doesn’t hurt to come anyways. Since you want to see me suffer….or whatever….”

“Or whatever??? Toy, if I come see you right now...you won’t like what you’re going to get. I haven’t an ounce of pity in me to give you if that’s what you’re searching for. I'm not the type to let you rest in my lap as I stroke your hair and tell you it will be alright, and I won’t give in and feed you. Instead, I’ll make sure you never wish to call me again.”

“...ok…”

“Ok? Ok?? Haha! ...ok then. Let’s see how pathetic you’ve become as you beg and plead to me in person, little actor. Playtime is happening earlier today than I had planned. Congratulations! I’m extra pissed.”

Call ended.

She let out a puff of air, dropping her phone down next to her before closing her eyes, not bothering to stand in preparation for his arrival.

Next chapters All chapters

#suit saeran #ray mystic messenger #saeran x mc #Uyu #Dan Byeol #mystic messenger cmc

[ddaehyeon]

last christmas

pairing: kang minhee + reader + ham wonjin

genre: angst, fluff (?)

word count: 6.4k words

summary:  your relationship with minhee had ended almost a year ago. now, someone else was holding your heart closer than minhee ever did. after confessing, wonjin did nothing but to shower you with great heights of affection. it was all good until you met minhee this year on the cafe the two of you used to frequent. a wave of realization came to daunt you-- maybe after all this time, minhee was still that someone special you'd give your heart to.

a/n: finally!! i’ve been working on this for the past few days and finished this earlier. only edited once! a very light one ((i’ll probably proofread this again some other day)) this is longer than expected lmao i enjoyed writing this a lot. send me some feedbacks through asks/reblogs. i’ll appreciate it so much :> merry christmas :DD 

not requested | play this: last christmas | masterlist ☆ request

thick layer of snow surrounded the area, each house in the small town decorated in greens and reds. the weather was becoming colder and colder each passing day. its breeze not giving mercy. christmas songs were being played in almost all the shops. people crowded various stores in hopes of finding the most appropriate gifts for their friends, families, or special someone. 

a few shopping bags were beside you as you rested in one of your favorite cafes, a warm drink settled on your table. the aroma of coffee mingled with the fragrance of the cedarwood scented candles that were placed all over the cafe. a familiar christmas song had been playing; its mellow tune giving a cozy feeling. the bell continuously chimed as customers entered, you took pleasure in watching people, who like you, were doing their christmas shopping. 

it was all good until your stomach sunk at the sight of a familiar person. his towering height distinct among the passing customers. and maybe your eyes had been selective from the very beginning since from the entrance up to the counter, your eyes followed him. a tug in the heartstring; it was a wonder how a simple sight of him was enough for memories to come in like a wave, crashing in your mind. 

kang minhee. 

how could you forget the person you could say you’ve loved the most? the person who first broke your heart, leaving you with hundred shards to pick up. 

the cafe itself held various memories from the two of you, each anniversary and hundred days spent in the local shop. a witness to the shared peals of laughter, exchanged aspirations, and uttered future plans. it was seemingly a perfect relationship, until it became a lot colder than winter days. both driven in career and passion, none of you was able to pause and take care of the dwindling bond.

well, you tried. but it was a few steps behind.

ache lick upon your senses; a surging wildfire that you had no control over. you formerly thought that there were questions better left unanswered. something you had learned to accept. but now that he was walking towards you, each query began to pop into your mind. like a spot of ink to clean water, it spread ever so swiftly.

still fresh in your mind. almost a year ago, you found a note in your front door. a single stem of yellow tulips fixing it to the floor. the penmanship was so familiar. for years of being together, you’d been accustomed to minhee’s handwriting. but not with the words written on the letter. only a few words, yet enough to shake your whole world.

‘i think i’m falling out of love. i’m sorry. - k. mh’

and just like a bubble that popped; no trace of him was found the next day.

“are you sitting with someone else?” minhee asked, stopping just beside your table. those were a familiar set of words. it was how the two of you met at this very coffee shop. the only difference was that before, the two of you were complete strangers. now, you were strangers, but with shared memories. 

you suck in a breath, trying to calm down yourself. a terribly awkward smile crossing your lips as you shook your head. 

nodding, he took the seat adjacent to yours. “it’s been a while.”

“it has.” you knew minhee wasn’t a fan of shallow conversations, he would only be doing so when he ended up being in an extremely awkward situation. which to say was exactly where he was at that moment. 

the questions in your mind had been urging you to speak more. to ask him what happened. to ask him why did he not try to talk it out with you. to ask him why it was only a note. to ask him where it went wrong. 

a single question had been blocking those other strangled ones from coming out— am i actually ready to hear it? 

as if minhee was able to hear your mind, he spoke. “i’m sorry.” his voice was soft, almost inaudible. yet clear enough to go through your ears, down to your stomach, allowing it to be twisted into several knots. a certain sensation came hugging your chest; the wound still fresh regardless of how long it had been. 

“for what?” you asked as if you weren’t sure of what he was talking about. well, in fact, you weren’t. out of all the ones your mind came up with, which one was he apologizing for?

right at the moment minhee was to open his mouth to speak, your eyes met. it hasn't changed a lot, it was still beautiful— the only thing different was the dimmed brightness. sparks no longer emanating from his orbitals. “i’m sorry for leaving you the way i did.”

“it’s okay, minhee.” a smile was your only cover, but it was a foolish act. you knew minhee could read over those feigned smiles… or can he really?

“it’s not,” minhee replied. “leaving you just like that wasn’t okay. it wasn’t what you deserved. i should’ve spoken to you rather than hiding through a form of a short note.”

“there’s nothing we can do about that now though.” you let go of a chuckle; ones that didn’t hold joy nor sadness, something pulled out only to fill the gap between sentences. “we’re off to different paths now.”

after his disappearance, you dived into the preparations for a small shop of scented candles. and through your other mutual friends, you were able to get a few details about what happened to minhee. a job offer from a game company had kept him busy with all the programming and coding.

“right.” with a nod, a faint smile appeared on his countenance. “do you have—”

before minhee could even proceed with what he was supposed to say, your phone began ringing. you fished out your phone, holding it close to your ears as you answered the caller, wonjin. “i’m at the cafe near the flower shop we frequent.”

if earlier had been awkward for both you and minhee, the next minutes that followed was even more awkward. with minhee sitting just across you with a silent stare, his order seemed to be taking much time to arrive on this table. what was he supposed to ask earlier anyway? 

“what were you saying?” you asked, surprisingly without much thinking.

“ah, just if you were in a relationship.” minhee scratched his cheek before continuing his words. “you don’t have to answer it now though.”

the bell chimed, indicating the arrival of another customer. this time it was wonjin, his footsteps drawing closer to you. a vibrant smile was on his lips as he stopped just beside your table, greeting you before looking at minhee then back to you. “ready to go?”

you hummed as a response as you collected your shopping bags, which wonjin was quick to gather in his own hand right after. “i’ll go now, minhee. it was nice to see you.”

“it was nice to see you too. take care,” minhee said, watching you stand and walk towards the glass door. 

there were a lot of questions in your mind the moment you saw minhee; no much explanation was offered. only an apology. and perhaps that was the best way to end it. giving him one final glance, another realization hit you. minhee didn’t actually order anything. 

if the day had been cold, the evening was far colder, each breath formed a fleeting cloud in the air. stars had already scattered on the night sky along with the crescent moon which was slowly traveling across the sky. 

“ah,” wonjin began, making you look at him with a brow raised. however, he was quick to decline his words. unable to continue right away. as if thinking if it was proper for him to speak.

“is something wrong, wonjin?” you asked, a little worried. 

averting his gaze away from you, he watched the few passing cars as he bit his lips, still contemplating. using his free hand, he scratched the back of his head. “just…”

“just?” you didn’t tear off your look on him, urging him to continue.

a light chuckle left his lips and by the sound of it, laced with awkwardness. carefully, he resumed his words. “i hope you don’t mind me asking.” he fixed his gaze on the sidewalk, still hesitant to make eye contact with you. “the guy earlier… was he your ex?”

it was a simple question, the answer only lying in between the scale of yes or no. but you found yourself unable to pull a word right away. 

standing beside you was wonjin. one of your closest friends. and most of all, someone who had vocalized his feelings for you. his love was not only of warm and affectionate words, it all came with actions and a huge amount of effort. a person your friends would tell you that they envy you for having. holding him close to your heart, regardless of having no labels attached, there was no way in hell you’d be favoring the idea of hurting him. 

you shifted your gaze, looking at the frosty path that led to your apartment. “yes, he is,” you finally answered warily. 

“i see.” wonjin nodded, a small smile coming to his lips. “how do you feel about meeting him earlier?”

one of the things you like about wonjin was the way he would check up on you. the way he would ask about your day and listen to your stories with leveled enthusiasm, eager to hear how you felt about it. for wonjin, it was something out of habit; but for you, it meant a lot. for someone to be so attentive and interested in your wellbeing, wonjin was just perfect the way he was. 

and it was the reason why you also dislike wonjin. he was just too perfect of a person. someone you were afraid to hold. someone you were afraid to end up breaking. someone you thought you don’t deserve.

“i don’t know.” a chuckle served as punctuation to your words. you weren’t sure how to feel about it. the way your conversation closed made you want to ask minhee for more explanations. how did he exactly feel during the time he left you? what was his intention when he talked to you again? overall, confusion laid flat on your stomach. but you decided not to tell wonjin about that part. your mind will probably be as restless as you were exactly a year ago with the same set of questions popping out. 

a cool gust of wind blew and despite the thick layer of clothes you were wearing, you shivered. 

“you didn’t wear a scarf again,” wonjin remarked as he removed his own scarf, stopping in front of you to wrap it around your neck. a satisfied smile sat on his countenance as he was doing so. he patted the pocket of his coat and retrieved hot packs from it, playfully squeezing it to your cheeks before putting it in your hands. “you should wear warmer clothes. take care of yourself better would you?”

if there was one thing you would easily recognize wonjin for, it would be his kindness. you met wonjin a month after minhee disappeared. and your friends associated the encounter with the known saying, ‘when someone leaves, it's because someone else is about to arrive.’ regarding wonjin as the person to fill the gap minhee had left.

flowers were blooming back then, your head filled with the ‘why’s and possible answers to all the questions related to minhee. the preparation for your small business, a shop of scented candles, had become a major escape. taeyoung, your cousin and a fan of scented candles, was the person who was supposed to help you organize the fixtures in the shop. an unanticipated schedule made him unable to come though, so instead, he sent another person to aid you— wonjin. the ever so cheery boy who talked to you as if you knew him for years already. maybe it was one of wonjin’s talents. to make people feel comfortable around him. 

he didn’t become a worker in your shop since he had a job of his own, a producer and sometimes a host, in one of the known entertainment channels. despite this, every once in a while he would drop by your shop to buy a scented candle, musing how it helped him calm down every evening and made it easier for sleep to come by. 

on every visit, the two of you became closer, ending up meeting not only in the shop but also outside. it ranged from him accompanying you to pick up items from your suppliers to going out for a movie or to simply hang out. 

his confession didn’t come off as a surprise, a lot of your friends had been telling you of the possibilities that one day wonjin would finally gather enough courage to tell you how he felt. he didn’t urge you to answer his confession though, instead, asked you to give him a chance in proving how much he loves you. 

the train of thoughts you had made you unable to notice the time. and when you had snapped out of it, the two of you were already standing in front of your apartment. 

wonjin handed you your shopping bags.

“you’re still coming with me tomorrow, right?” a plan had been set days ago, he was to come with you to buy the recent novel of your favorite author. 

“of course.” he grinned before patting your head. “i’ll fetch you at 8am?”

“10am,” you corrected.

a chuckle was heard from him. “alright, sleepyhead. i’ll pick you up at 10am.”

“thank you.” you flashed him a smile which he reciprocated. 

leaning closer, his hand still on the top of your head, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead— it was the only kiss you had ever consented him to do. during the normal days, it would give your stomach a fuzzy feeling, but today was different. it contributed to your confusion. or perhaps deep-seated guilt.

departing from wonjin, you entered your apartment. having no energy to walk to your room, you threw yourself on the couch. a deep sigh left the confines of your lips. however, it didn’t pull off the sensation stuck in your chest. 

days ago you were so sure about answering wonjin’s confession— to finally give him the reply he’d been waiting to get. but now, everything’s all over the place. your world shook once again by the same person.

“minhee, why did you have to come back?”

the soft tune of nat king cole’s the christmas song enveloped the bookstore. unlike the other neighboring stores, there were only a few customers inside. something you considered good as you can finally browse through collections without having to deal with the bustling crowd. 

as agreed, wonjin went to your apartment two minutes before 10am. a hot coffee and fluffy pancake which he bought served as your breakfast. by the time you arrived in the bookstore, it was already almost lunch. 

“i’ll be in the manga and comic section, just go there once you’re ready to go,” wonjin said, seemingly excited by his own plans. “after that, we’ll eat lunch, your treat since i already bought you breakfast earlier. it would be just fair enough, no?”

you chuckled at his words and he grinned. “okay, okay, mister wonjin. lunch’s on me.”

“that’s a deal, yeah?” he looked at the shelf in front of you, a line of contemporary fiction novels seemingly freshly delivered were displayed there. “heard they restocked today, that mystery thriller book should be there if not we can just check other bookstores after lunch.”

“i think it’s here. i contacted the owner earlier and they said she was able to hold several copies.” a smile crept upon your visage. “he told me to be fast though since a lot of people are looking for it as well.”

“but you woke up late.”

rolling your eyes, you shook your head before withdrawing. “yes, i woke up late.”

without much thought, your feet brought you to the mystery fiction section of the books. it would be a definite lie to say that you haven’t memorized the sections in this bookstore and where to find the books you were looking for. it was one of the shops that, just like the cafe, held hundreds of memories of you and minhee. 

fingers grazing on the spine of the books, you pulled some along the way, checking the synopsis. there might be some other interesting novels that could capture your attention before you grab your desired book. 

shifting your gaze from a detective themed book to the person standing just in front of you, you looked at the book he was holding. it was the exact same book you were searching for. your breath caught halfway when your eyes met with the other. minhee was the one examining the book. 

of all genres, minhee enjoyed mystery fiction a lot. just like an old movie, a memory played in your head. the two of you were a regular of this bookstore, making you a known couple to the old man who owned the store. every time a new release of your favorite series became available, it was already expected that the two of you would be there the next day. 

“it’s good to see the two of you again,” the owner said, his old raspy voice resounding from behind you made you step closer to minhee as you looked at him. “minhee’s back now, i see? you’ve probably missed your boyfriend, y/n.”

you never told the owner about how minhee and you had practically ended your relationship over a year ago. the old man was so fond of the two of you that such news could probably bring a good shock to him. so you simply told him that minhee had to focus on his career and transferred to another town. 

minhee shot you a confused look and you forced a smile, mentally telling him to just go with the flow. 

“doesn’t want to be disturbed?” the old man laughed, walking closer to minhee and giving his shoulder a light tap. “take care of y/n.”

there was a smile on minhee’s lips as he nodded his head, you weren’t sure if it was a phony one. he bobbed his head up and down, reassuring the old man. “i will.”

you will? you thought. but you’ve already failed to do so long ago. 

the way your body reacted to his words was something you hated. like a sunray seeping through the bushy leaves, it gave you a peck of hope. something you wished didn’t exist. you had already convinced yourself that it was not worth it to wait for minhee or try to rekindle your relationship with him, yet here you were hoping for a few words. hoping for him to tell you those magical words that could make you become a fool over his love again. 

he seemed to have already moved on, so why won’t you simply do the same?

“y/n, y/n, look at what i’ve found—” wonjin halted your train of thoughts, his words interrupted by the sight of you and minhee together. a slight bow was given to minhee as a form of greeting which minhee mirrored. 

your lips formed a thin line, head dwelling with thoughts that were only related to the man standing in front of you. turning to look at wonjin who had already lowered the book he was holding, you gave him a tightlipped smile. “let’s go. the book’s no longer available.” 

“it’s not?” by the look in your eyes, he was already able to decipher what you needed— an escape. “let’s just check the other bookstores then. i’ll just pay for this at the counter.”

as you were walking towards wonjin, minhee spoke, enough to make you stop. 

“you can have this,” extending his hand for you to get the book, minhee said. 

shaking your head, you curtly looked at him to reply before following wonjin to the counter. “no, take it.”

it was no surprise that the next few days were spent with your mind aimlessly wandering in the memory lane, reliving the memories with minhee you had a year ago. the more you told yourself to stop thinking about him, the more your brain would push more memories of minhee. the way he would go to your apartment and scold you for oversleeping. the way he would check up on you every evening and sometimes would end up with snacks in your front door during the wee hours of the night. the way he’d be more excited than you in decorating your apartment with christmas decors. the way you’d wake up a few days before christmas with him in your room, tossing you a coat and telling you to get off the bed and do last-minute shopping. the way he’d spend christmas eves with you, by the couch cuddling. 

christmas sure was a reminder of minhee as you basically spent most of it with him. it was two different entities, but hard to separate. 

“are you okay?” taeyoung asked, lighting up an orchid scented candle on the table. the wave of customers had subsided, offering a few minutes of free time for the two of you who had been pacing back and forth wrapping candles. 

you nodded despite being unsure.

“minhee’s back. have you met with him already?” out of all the questions taeyoung could ask, you wondered why it was the one he followed up. “it’s a short vacation. now’s your time to have all your questions answered.”

you chuckled, pulling a stool for you to sit on. minhee by far wasn’t able to answer your questions, instead, he was able to open a box of queries you didn’t notice had been in the back of your head for a while. it was like pandora’s box had been opened to spread chaos in your head. “i’ve met him twice already.” you shook your head, checking the list of inventory items for the nth time today. “it’s not helping.”

“not helping? why? how do you feel about minhee?” 

for the first time in a while, you allow your heart to speak, rather than have it contained. “i’ve honestly missed him. i’d jump to hug him the first time i saw him, but something stopped me from doing so.”

“and what stopped you?” taeyoung dragged a chair to sit across you. 

“the pain he had left me to deal with the moment i read his note for me last year.” you exhaled in an attempt to get rid of the sensation that went to hug your chest. it was the last thing you needed at that very moment. 

taeyoung’s expressions were altered, displaying concern as he looked at you. “are you perhaps…”

he didn’t have to finish his question for you to answer. “i think i’m still in love with minhee. not of the same height as before, but i wasn’t able to move on and now i’m stuck in the spiral of my feelings for him, hoping. desperately hoping that we’d be back together again.”

“i thought you’ve already moved on.”

“i thought so as well.” you feigned a smile. tears began to wet your eyes, but none of it fell. you didn’t allow it to fall. “but i was wrong. it was easier said than done.” 

it was funny how after all this time of you trying to bury your feelings away, a single appearance of minhee made you dig it all up. you tried to remember, but can’t. just how long had you been lying to yourself?

“how about wonjin? you planned to answer his confession, right? what will you do?” another string of questions you weren’t even certain of what to answer. you were too lost in the labyrinth minhee had set for you, leaving you with no space to think about what you will do with wonjin. 

“wonjin doesn’t deserve half-baked affection,” you admitted. burying your face in your hands, you sighed defeatedly. “i don’t know.”

“but he doesn’t deserve to wait this long as well,” taeyoung replied. “you know what’s worse than being rejected? it’s being left with no proper answer which leaves you in an in-between state, not knowing what to do with your feelings.”

you failed to utter a reply. you weren’t the only one hurting. you were also subconsciously hurting the person who had decided to shower you with nothing but love. 

the shop door swung open, the bell chiming the same way it did in the cafe when you reunited with minhee.

“can we talk for a moment?” at first, you thought it was only your imagination. you might have been thinking of minhee a lot that you heard his voice. but no. standing in front of the counter was minhee, both hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. he was panting as if he ran his way to the shop. “i have something important to say.”

silence. 

it was all that covered the room where you would usually make scented candles, the only room available for you and minhee to talk. you sat across each other with quiet looks. regardless of how minhee had practically rushed to go to the shop to talk with you, he found himself unable to start right away. not sure of where to begin. 

“i’m sorry about what i did last year.” finally, minhee broke the stillness that had been enveloping the room. “you have everything figured out during that year, ready to make this shop possible while i was still struggling to find a stable position in my own career. i became afraid that i will end up holding you back.” he paused, trying to look for the best words to say. for the words that could hurt less. he was aware of how much damage he had caused, adding another stack of it was the last thing he wished to do. “this is a stupid reason, but i’ve felt like i didn’t deserve you back then. that i’m someone not worthy to keep you. i’m really sorry.”

that?

that was the reason why he slowly drifted away?

that was the reason behind the note he gave you two days after christmas?

“then you should have at least tried to make yourself worthy of me!” you fired off, unable to hold the ache that made you driven to speak. 

“that’s what i did, y/n,” minhee replied, his eyes slightly damped by the tears that were threatening to fall. never did you see minhee cry back then. not in the most tragic movies, not in failures. “i stepped out of your life because the minhee back then was not the minhee you deserved.”

stray tears had already fallen from your eyes, tracing your cheeks. “then why leave me with a single note instead of talking it out with me?” 

“because i was afraid.” blinking away his own tears, minhee took a deep breath before continuing. “afraid that if i ever meet you one last time, i will be unable to walk away.”

“but how about me?” your voice cracked; heart engulfed with a mixture of pain and sadness. “how about me and my feelings?”

minhee extended his hands to hold yours but stopped halfway. it was as if he thought that he wasn’t the person that could best comfort you during that time. once again, he was holding himself back. there was no plausible reason to counter your question. and he was aware that apologies would never be enough to mend a heart that had been broken. “i’m terribly sorry.” 

“what now?” the question shot like a dagger that cut through the air. “what do you want to do?”

“i want to make it up to you,” minhee replied. he knelt next to your chair and now, without holding back, reached for your face to wipe your tears away. “i want to prove that i’m worthy of you.”

his gentle touch did nothing to stop your tears, rather it made it unstoppable. good thing you were sitting for if not, your legs had probably betrayed you. 

“y/n, i’m still in love with you.” minhee freed himself, a tear cascading on his cheek. 

in this very shop months ago, he found a good amount of courage to look for you. to check up on you and explain everything. how he regretted sending that note, how he regretted leaving just like that. however, when he saw you and wonjin through the glass door, he froze. the smile you had on your lips which used to give his heart a warm feeling ended up doing the opposite— a stab. so that was how it feels like to see the person you loved the most happy with someone else? 

he thought it was what he deserved. after all, he ended up hurting you. for so long, he tried to not show his face to you, to not touch your seemingly perfect life. and maybe it was so selfish of him to try entering your life once again, but there was nothing he could do. every single thing around him reminded him of you.

from the cafes near his work down to all the flowers blooming— each of your favorites memorized by heart and offered reminders of all shared memories. a reminder that regardless of how many times he attempted to erase each trace of you, you were the only one he could ever love. something that led him to going to the shops you would always frequent in. hoping to bump by with you. to exchange words with you. 

you wanted to tell him about how you felt but chose not to.

another person coming to your mind, how about wonjin? how about the person who accompanied you during the time you were facing the ache led by minhee’s actions? how about the person who prioritized your happiness more than anything else? how about the person who did nothing but love you? 

“but minhee…” you trailed, thoughts clamoring in your head, clashing. “i’m afraid i can’t be back with you. i don’t want to hurt wonjin.”

empty stare directed to the television which wasn’t even playing. your mind elsewhere. after what happened earlier, you become unsure who to face, what to do, and what to feel. a voice in your heart whispers your real feelings, something your mind kept on blocking. your thoughts emerging to be more powerful than anything else. 

a few knocks on the door pulled you out of your reverie. it was already evening. who could that be? your feet were heavy as you trudged towards the front door. and by the time you opened it, there was a definite tug in your heartstring. wonjin was standing outside, a smile curved in his brim— it wasn’t as bright as it usually was. 

you gestured him to come inside as it was freezing cold outside. he didn’t go further to the living room though, rather, stopping by the area which had all your shoes in there. 

“taeyoung told me that you forgot to bring this home earlier.” wonjin handed you a paper bag which contained the fragrance oils you were supposed to use for some candle making tonight. “you seem a little out of it, are you okay?”

a realization.

you didn’t answer his question and threw him a query yourself. “you went to the shop earlier?”

wonjin nodded and hummed, confirming your horror. “i was there.”

“wonjin…”

the gloom that traced the corner of his lips through a forced smile was easily noticeable. he took a breath, his smile unwavering. “are you still in love with minhee?” a chuckle left his lips, and even with his attempt to make it sound as cheerful, it didn’t manage to give off such emotion. “i was in the shop earlier and overheard your conversation with him.”

all the words you could possibly utter failed you. they were all stuck in your throat like a lump. 

pressing his lips into a tightlipped smile, wonjin’s eyes were fixated on the floor. it was as if a single glance at you would be enough to tell him the truth. something he knew he wasn’t ready to hear yet. something he, just like you, had been trying to escape from.  

the silence you offered became an answer to his question though. 

“you know, i’m not your boyfriend.” he lifted his head to gaze at you. “it’s absolutely fine for you to have feelings for minhee.”

“but what about you wonjin?”

a flick on your forehead was his initial response. “dummy, why are you thinking about me?” this time, lighthearted laughter flowed out of the confines of his mouth. “it’s your feelings. i love you, but never did i require you to love me back. i just wanted to love you, nothing else. all i wish for you is to be happy— to be genuinely happy with the person you actually love.” wonjin shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, yet his eyes were painted in sheer ache with tears threatening to fall. “and if it’s not me, what can i do? it’s okay, y/n.”

you weren’t the one being rejected, yet your tears were first to fall. “i’m sorry, wonjin. i really appreciate your feelings, but… i’m sorry.”

it’s over now, no? he thought before stepping closer to you.

without much thought, wonjin wrapped his arms around you, caressing the back of your head. “you don’t have to apologize. it’s alright.” he detached himself from the hug to only cup your face and look at you in the eyes. there was nothing harder than having to let go of the person that was never yours, to begin with. to push away your feelings for the sake of the person you love. “don’t hold back because of me, alright? you deserve to be loved and you deserve to be with the person you love.”

“wonjin…” a choked sob became your pause. “thank you. i’m really grateful for you.”

bobbing his head up and down, his smile, even sad, was genuine. he planted a kiss on your forehead. it would be probably the last time he would ever do that. usually, it served as a goodbye kiss, a separation that would only last for a day. but now, it was of a longer duration. you weren’t even sure when will be the next time you’d ever meet him. “you should let minhee know about it and don’t think about me. think of yourself and your feelings. give him a second chance if that’s what you want, but if he hurts you the second time around, i’ll be the first one to stop you from coming back to him.” 

the same smile was mirrored on your countenance as you wiped your tears. “i will.”

one last touch, wonjin told himself, just one more. 

his hand reached for the top of your head, a gentle pat done as he grinned at you before finally withdrawing and stepping back. “thank you for allowing me to love you, y/n. it was a pleasure to love you.” 

without waiting for your reply, he turned his back to you and left the apartment. the cold road waiting for him. something he wished could make him feel better. 

there was one thing you missed— a mistake.

days after that, minhee no longer appeared in your shop or the other shops where you bumped into him the past days. left with no contact with him, you became uncertain of how you will talk to him again. 

but you wanted to. 

taeyoung had left the store earlier than you did, his family demanding him to get home earlier since it was already christmas eve. a lot of people were still wandering around, your store flooded with customers doing their last-minute christmas shopping. it would be a lie to say that you weren’t hoping for minhee to come in.

there was also no message received from wonjin, the evening broadcasts stacking on his schedule. you decided not to message him, thinking that maybe he needed space. 

it was snowing outside, not a heavy one, but enough for the path to be in clear white. kids taking pleasure in the weather by having snowball fights— oh, to be a child again. 

surprisingly the time was quick to pass. and before you knew it, you were already handing the receipt of the last customer who bought roasted chestnut scented candles. flipping the signboard from open to close, you made sure everything in the store was secured. you picked up the chocolate cake taeyoung bought for you and went out of the shop.

as you walked home, you took comfort in watching different people. each shared busy look as they bought food and gifts for their family, a couple walking together with finger interlaced had allowed a beam to come across your brim, the youthful talks you’d hear from the passing kids and teenagers as they guess what gift will they receive the next day brought a warm feeling in your chest. 

somewhat, it made you less lonely.

but it didn’t completely get rid of the thought that you wished you’d be able to see minhee today. a mental note was done, go home and then visit the shops again to check if minhee is there. 

it didn’t take you too long to arrive in the hallway where your apartment was. someone was outside your door, his back leaning in the handrails as he held a staring contest with your door. in his hand was a bouquet of daffodils and tulips— two of your favorite flowers. their meanings still fascinated you up until now.

you no longer have to look for him. he was right in front of you.

“minhee?” 

he turned his head to look at you, a smile peaking on his lips as soon as his eyes landed on you. there were crescents on his eyes. day one of him trying to pursue you once again. “merry christmas, y/n.”

#cravity #cravity imagines #cravity scenarios #cravity oneshots #cravity drabbles #minhee #wonjin #minhee imagines #wonjin imagines #minhee x reader #wonjin x reader #cravity x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #kang minhee #ham wonjin

[what-the--curtains]

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

#In a week #part 3 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters

[quiverwingduck]

When you have a second-hand alter-ego, some identity crises are bound to crop up. When they do, it helps to have a Launchpad. 

(Includes minor descriptions of injuries.)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794749

Twitter Link:

    Darkwing Duck woke sometime around sun-up, judging by the severity of the beams of sunlight that squeezed through the cracks around the garage bay door to glare into his eyes. They highlighted the dust in the air that he’d been breathing in while he slept, and they did very, very little to warm the solid concrete he had passed out on. 

    He was laying face down on Launchpad’s floor, several feet between him and the couch he’d been borrowing ever since his last gig went up in flames. Launchpad slept on a platform above his little area, and that was about all the privacy he got these days. Except Launchpad wasn’t here now. If he was, Darkwing would hear the snores. If he was, he wouldn’t have left Darkwing on the floor all night. 

    Darkwing moved his arms to prop himself up, and there was an audible pop, a cacophony of grinding and scraping from somewhere within, and a debilitating stab of pain. It was jarring enough that even Darkwing “Get Back Up” Duck had to give pause. His whole body was sore and that made it hard to pinpoint any single injury, but if whatever it was wasn’t completely broken yet, putting pressure on it would certainly get it there.

He tested one arm and then the other, and used the one that hurt less to push himself up. Except as he shifted his leg, it happened again, and this time it was bad enough that his vision melted away and he collapsed. 

Above Launchpad’s couch, there hung one of several posters of Darkwing Duck. Jim Starling’s Darkwing Duck. The real, the original, the one he was meant to emulate. He was looking down on him. He was always looking down on him. It was only a piece of paper, but it was difficult to shake the notion that Jim Starling was seeing him fail. 

He held Jim’s artificial gaze until consciousness left him again. 

——

When Darkwing Duck woke again, it had tilted towards noon, and the air in the garage had grown warm and stale, and Launchpad was there, and he looked so upset, and there were voices outside, and the world came at Darkwing so fast the moment he opened his eyes that it dazed him. Launchpad was asking him questions that he couldn’t hear, much less answer. 

Launchpad’s arm slipped under Darkwing’s and hoisted him up off the floor with no effort at all. There was dried blood where he’d been laying. Darkwing had no idea where it had come from. There were any number of bad sensations to choose from. 

Launchpad’s voice faded in abruptly, like someone had cranked the volume on a stereo. “--McDee’s right outside, DW, you gotta be quiet!”

Darkwing hadn’t realized he’d been making noise, but as Launchpad jostled him, a prevailing pain shot up his leg and into his back, and he had to cut off a yelp by holding his own bill shut. 

Unable to walk, unable to process, and there stood Jim, watching him in all his shortcomings. 

Launchpad fell into what was rapidly becoming a familiar routine with him. Hide the costume. Clean up. Bandage wounds. Food, generally refused. At least a little water. Then sleep. Darkwing wanted sleep so badly. Whatever had just happened to him, it didn’t feel like rest. Exhaustion was still weighing on him, a cinderblock hung around his neck by a thin little string. It pulled him under again while Launchpad was stitching up a frighteningly deep, jagged gash across his abdomen. 

When he surfaced once more, Launchpad was still there. Darkwing had made it to the couch somehow, all stitched and bandaged and cozy under one of Launchpad’s big, heavy blankets. Launchpad was sitting next to the spot where Darkwing’s head was laid, on the one cushion he wasn’t taking up, sprawled out as he was. 

Darkwing woke facing the cushion, and the wall where Jim’s poster hung. He rolled over as quickly as his he could, pushing against fatigue and stiffening wounds, but Jim’s face was right there waiting for him on the TV screen, too. He hated the dread he felt. 

“Hey, LP,” he said, croaking. His throat was still full of garage floor grit and maybe a little blood. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Nah,” Launchpad said flippantly, pointing the remote outward to turn the volume down. “Mister McDee’s doing work around the house, and Della took the Sunchaser out.”

Darkwing grunted, shifting onto his back and shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Jim anymore, just for one minute. 

“You feeling better, DW?” Launchpad continued. Darkwing could feel him staring, and decided not to look back. 

“Sure, Launchpad. I’m fine. I am unflappable. I’m—”

“Darkwing Duck. I know.”

“I was gonna say the terror that flaps in the night.” 

Launchpad let out a sigh, and Darkwing felt a hand on his stomach. It wasn’t a tender touch. He could feel Launchpad pressing down on his abdomen, just hard enough that it would cause a reaction if something were wrong internally, and for all either of them knew something might be. Darkwing kept his eyes and his mouth shut and willed Launchpad not to notice him clench his teeth. 

Launchpad knew better by now than to suggest a doctor visit. Instead he said, “Go back to sleep, DW,” and his hand moved up to Darkwing’s hair. 

The next time Darkwing woke up, Launchpad hadn’t moved a muscle, but he had burned through about half of season two. He was currently on the episode where Darkwing Duck had been driven to hang up his cape, thanks to the machinations of Quackerjack. The breakfast sandwich that Launchpad had left out for him hours and hours prior was starting to stink up the garage even worse, old egg and mayonnaise and cheese. 

The only indication that Launchpad had moved recently was a water bottle pressed against Drake’s eye, still a little bit cold. It felt nice. He didn’t need to look to know that eye was swollen and bruised. 

Launchpad had Darkwing’s cape laid out over his lap, and was neatly and patiently running a needle through it, closing up yet another hole.

Darkwing sat up on his own for the first time since he had broken into the garage in the small, dark hours of morning and cracked that water bottle open, draining it in one swig. 

“Morning, DW,” Launchpad said, good-natured as ever, though Darkwing could see plainly that the sun had already begun to descend.

This time, Launchpad paused the show. Darkwing wished he hadn’t, now staring down the barrel of a freeze frame of Jim’s face looking straight back at him, an expression that was angry and judgmental, but somehow still wearing a wicked little smirk. 

Launchpad, clearly not noticing Darkwing’s chagrin, kept on talking. “Hey, did I ever ask you what you thought of the characterization with Quackerjack in season two? It felt odd, right? Like maybe—”

“Like maybe Paddywhack’s influence never fully went away? Yeah.” Darkwing smiled good-naturedly. He’d definitely had this conversation with Launchpad multiple times already in the few short weeks he’d been living here. There was a time in his life where he would have loved to talk circles about deep Darkwing Duck lore, but that time had passed, violently and without ceremony. 

Launchpad tilted his gaze Darkwing’s way. He didn’t look any less upset than he had when he’d first found Darkwing on the floor. “You feeling alright?” he asked again. This, too, was part of their routine. The smell of old breakfast turned Darkwing’s stomach. “Sixteen stitches, DW. That’s a lot of stitches. Any stitches is a bad number of stitches.” 

“Launchpad, I’m fine,” Darkwing replied, because he was supposed to. It was part of a script, for a role that was getting more and more difficult to step out of.

“You also might have a break this time.”

Launchpad pressed a finger against Darkwing’s left ankle, just one, and it lit up with fire. Darkwing’s eyes filled with water, and with no mask and wide, droopy hat brim to hide behind. 

“Quit poking me!” he snapped. “I said I’m fine!” The crushing guilt for being mean to Launchpad McQuack set in immediately, but Darkwing found that feeling bad just made him angrier. On the screen, Jim watched his outburst.

“This was your idea, LP! Remember? Remember ‘do it for Jim’, Launchpad?”

Launchpad clicked the power off, Jim’s face vanishing into a black screen that reflected their own instead, Darkwing scowling and Launchpad frowning, looking so sad in that bottomless and expansive way that he felt every emotion. Darkwing hesitated, beak hanging open in disbelief at himself. “I’m sorry,” he said right away, and he meant it. “I’m sorry. That was awful. I—I need to go.”

“Drake, no—” Launchpad started, but Darkwing snatched the cape away from him, thread and needle still hanging off of it, and moved to stand. He stopped immediately when his broken foot touched the floor, debilitated by the searing agony that started in his leg and burned all the way up into his brain. 

Launchpad, ever helpful even when someone was treating him like garbage, shot his arms out to give Darkwing something to lean on that wasn’t his injured leg. “I was gonna say that you won’t be able to walk,” Launchpad said dryly. 

Darkwing Duck stood, as best as he possibly could, and exhaled slowly, weighing his options. Night was settling in, and with it came a need, gnawing at him like Jim’s inescapable glare. “I have to patrol,” he said, knowing already that wasn’t the answer Launchpad wanted.

“On a broken foot?”

“I’ll call an Uberd.”

“An Uberd? Do I mean nothing to you?”

Launchpad griped, mirroring back the same overdramatic overacting that Darkwing himself was known for. He was trying to play, trying to lighten the mood, trying to trick him into calming down. 

Darkwing grumbled in frustration. The poster loomed over their heads, and he thought back on the day the studio caught fire. The day that Jim Starling finally snapped. The day that Launchpad McQuack nearly died right before his eyes, a split-second and a hair away from being caught up in the explosion, all because he’d wanted to help. 

Darkwing closed his eyes and tried to will the omnipresent vision of Jim Starling away. “I have to be out there. I have to do something. I…”

“Drake.”

It was the second time already that Launchpad had used his actual name, and somehow it stung worse than his ankle, or the stitches in his gut. Was the idea that he could actually become Darkwing Duck slipping away from Launchpad already?

Drake breathed in deep and tried to swallow his fears, but they remained, boiling over and spilling out of his mouth. “... If I stop moving, I start to think about Jim, and I… I can’t think about Jim.” 

Launchpad looked puzzled. His gaze turned up to the poster as if he was realizing for the first time in a long time that it was even there. 

Drake wished he could leave it at that and just stop talking, but that’s not what he did. “Jim died, Launchpad. He died because he hated me, and he hated me so much that he hurt innocent people over it. He hated me so much that he stopped being a hero. He hated me so much that it killed him.”

“DW—”

“Don’t.”

“Drake. Jim died saving us, remember?”

“No, he died saving you,” Drake said bitterly. “I was just in the way.”

“... Do you want me to take the poster down?” 

Drake balked. It had occurred to him, of course, but the thought of actually making Launchpad do it opened up a well of guilt. “No. No, no, I just—I should find someplace else to sleep, this is your space and—” Launchpad was already standing up and reaching for the poster, and without the support, Darkwing’s leg gave and he sank back down onto the cushions, grabbing uselessly at Launchpad’s sleeve. “No, LP, stop. Really.”

“It’s just a piece of paper, DW,” Launchpad said. He peeled it carefully off the wall, collecting sticky tack between his fingers, and rolled the paper up delicately in his hand, picture facing in. No longer a source of torment, just a white tube. He tucked it away behind some stacked crates serving as a table, or a dresser, or maybe just crates.

“But it’s… still important to you,” Drake said. “You shouldn’t have to take it down on my account.”

“The real Darkwing Duck’s crashing on my couch, that’s way more impressive than an old poster.”

The real Darkwing Duck. Drake sat with those words for awhile, staring unfocused at the empty spot on the wall. “... There is no real Darkwing Duck,” he said finally, dejected, throat tight. “I’m still just a dumb kid playing make-believe.” 

There was a heavy pause, neither of them daring to so much as shuffle their feet or breathe too loudly. Launchpad kept his eyes on the spot behind the crates where he had stored his Jim Starling poster, turned away just enough that Drake couldn’t read his expression. When Launchpad did turn back to him, he was grinning in a way Drake doubted he had been before.

“Hey, you wanna grab a burger?” Launchpad asked, as upbeat as ever.

Drake gave him a dumbfounded look, slowly processing what Launchpad was trying to do. Could it be so easy to just let the moment pass? Was it the right thing to do? Or was he just taking advantage? 

Launchpad’s expression fell a little as he waited for a response, and he adjusted his approach, cutting off a downward spiral that must have been apparent in Drake’s face.

“I love Darkwing Duck,” he said, speaking slowly, with carefully chosen words. “But… I’m worried about Drake Mallard. I haven’t seen much of him lately.”

“Thought I was—”

“You have to be both,” Launchpad said, speaking over Drake. “You are Darkwing Duck, and you are Drake. It’s not just a role you’re playing. It’s not separate. It’s part of you.”

Drake threw his arms up as if there were a physical onslaught he could block. He almost wished there were. That’s a situation he would know how to handle. 

“You gotta ask for help,” Launchpad went on, softer now. “I never said for you to do it all alone.”

Drake took in a deep breath. Relying on someone else still felt like failure, but it was easier to fall into without the weight of Jim Starling’s judgment hanging over him. “Okay, LP,” he said, exhaling. “I need your help.”

Launchpad brightened up instantaneously. It came so damn easy for him. Drake--Darkwing--wondered if he could hold onto that radiance somehow and let Launchpad drag him out of his rut. 

“We’re gonna get some burgers and fries,” Launchpad said decisively, already reaching for the keys to Scrooge’s green Jeep, “and we’re gonna spend a quiet night in, and tomorrow I’m gonna take you out on patrol, ‘cause that leg is not gonna heal in 24 hours.”

Launchpad was nice enough to not point out that a busted leg meant Darkwing would not be running down criminals for weeks to come, and Darkwing didn’t point it out either. He let Launchpad hoist him up and pile him into the car, the both of them carefully guarding his injuries.

---

The road that would take them into town spiraled several times around Killmotor Hill. Whenever Darkwing had to take this descent on foot, he typically scaled down the sides, sliding down rocky faces and trudging through bushes. It was just faster. This time, he got to sit comfortably in the passenger side, gazing out the window at the landscape and shorelines around them. 

Launchpad, evidently, was taking in the sights as well. He righted the car and himself a second after they nicked the guardrail, and Darkwing screamed a little louder than he was proud of.

“Whoops, sorry!” Launchpad shouted, jerking the wheel, but over Launchpad’s voice Darkwing could hear another one, muffled and tinny and jarringly familiar, coming from the glove compartment. Darkwing popped it open and pulled out a little Darkwing Duck bobblehead, looking thoroughly placid as he held it up to his own face.

“You are such a nerd,” he said, tapping the bobblehead so it would spit out the titular catchphrase. 

“Okay, Darkwing Duck,” Launchpad quipped right back. The two laughed at themselves and at each other, and something heavy in Drake’s ribcage dissipated. Drake put the toy on the dashboard instead of hiding it away again, and it felt okay.

Later, parked next to a burger joint where they sat pulling greasy fries out of a paper sack, Launchpad reached over and tapped the bobblehead again. “I looked for First Darkness merch, too,” he said. “There wasn’t much.”

“Yeah, they produced some to capitalize on the release, but I think even the bigwigs didn’t expect the movie to do very well. Feels weird to admit. Like, don’t get me wrong, I was over the moon to get the part, but I was thinking years in the future. I was thinking that there would be more releases to follow, maybe even a reboot of the show, and I’d… I’d be there, because I had to be. I’m Darkwing Duck.” 

He was Darkwing Duck. He’d wanted it all along, his whole life. He could never have become anything else, and the version of himself that had denied it just ten minutes prior felt like a different person. A stranger. 

Drake took a pause, holding a rapidly cooling french fry between his fingers because suddenly his stomach was too knotted to eat it. “I guess that’s all Jim wanted too, huh?”

“Jim… lost his way.”

“And what if I lose mine?”

Launchpad reached over. His hand completely dwarfed Drake’s, fingers curling inward around it, and slowly threading through Drake’s. Drake stopped breathing, something he prayed Launchpad didn’t notice as he worked the ulterior motive of sliding the french fry out of Drake’s grasp and stealing it away into his own mouth. 

“I get that you’re mixed up about Jim,” Launchpad said eventually, through chewing. “It was… scary. But it doesn’t have to take away what Darkwing Duck means to us, you know? I understand if you don’t wanna watch the show with me, but don’t give up on Darkwing Duck. He’s so much more than a TV character.”

Drake caught a hint of desperation, the tiniest hairline crack in Launchpad’s relentless glee. It gave him pause, observing as Launchpad upended the carton of fries into his mouth and chewed through a frown. 

“Okay, LP. I told you what Darkwing Duck is to me. What is he to you?”

A huge grin cracked across Launchpad’s face, and Drake sensed he’d made a mistake.

“He’s my hero, and he’s an inspiration, and he thinks he doesn’t snore at night but he definitely does.”

“Rude! Slanderous and rude!”

“Like the Sunchaser’s engine after I crashed into that dam.”

Drake stuck his tongue out, and Launchpad did the same, and then a silence fell over the car. One not too comfortable, Drake content to sit there and eat quietly in the company of his best friend, but acutely aware of the way Launchpad squirmed in his seat, trying in vain not to let more words spill from his mouth. 

“Darkwing Duck was my only friend when I needed one most.”

A cold stab in Drake’s gut, thinking back on beatings in the schoolyard, dented lunchbox, handmade cape torn from his shoulders, the ground rushing at him. Someone’s foot planted on his back to keep him down while others kicked and punched and spat. Blood and dirt and tears and lonely nights spent bandaging his knuckles while the television droned in the background. Telling himself that if Darkwing Duck could take the hits, then so could he.  

He wondered if Launchpad had ever endured the same. Poor, sweet, big-hearted Launchpad. 

    Drake shook the memories, and sighed dramatically, holding out his fries. Launchpad took the container from his hand without hesitation, and within seconds, they were gone. “As always, LP, you are right.” 

    “I am?” Launchpad said, an elated glimmer in his eyes. “So you’ll keep being Darkwing Duck and inspiring a new generation to stand strong and fight for what’s right?”

    “Well, yes,” Drake said, as he prodded a finger lightly against his abdomen and marveled at the searing pain that flared up. “But I meant about taking some time off… and maybe finding a doctor.” 

    “Oh!” Launchpad grabbed his burger, wedging it in his mouth before putting the keys in the ignition. He hit the gas hard, intending to speed off in what Drake imagined would have been a very cool fashion, but the car flew into reverse instead, and they were sent careening through a chain link fence, screaming.

#ducktales #darkwing duck #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #drakepad #just some light early drakepad is all #my fics #i made that

[chibi-honey-cake]

1. Soft [Voretober 2020]

Robot x Reader V.ore

Contains: Soft Vore, Safe Vore, Half-Size Vore, Nonbinary Pred, Robot Pred, Reader as Prey, Willing Prey Word Count: 1.1K

'Built for your comfort', the tagline said. Your curiosity had driven you to stop in front of the business more times than you'd care to admit. It was sort of like a napping place- where you would visit to take a nap during the day and feel refreshed. Sure, they had beds and nooks for customers, but their main gimmick and the one that they pushed with both hands was their staff.

This place had robots on staff, built by the owner himself. They were designed as 'servers' of sorts, taking care of customers and acting as sleep partners. Sometimes people would just want a quiet nook to themselves, sometimes they liked to sleep next to someone, and the others- well, they were more about sleeping IN the robots. Which honestly, is the part that intrigued you. The robots' outsides were smooth plastic and metal, but the insides were reportedly pillowy and cushioned for the comfort of the occupant. 'Created by hand for your rest and satisfaction', another poster on the window claimed. A cartoon-ish picture of a robot with a round belly and a person sleeping inside decorated the main part of the poster.

This place had been all over the news when it first opened, some awed by the unique idea and others concerned for health risks. All of which the owner took in stride, answering questions and showing their extensive testing to make sure everything was safe. Built-in timers and ventilation, required stretching after a visit, any and all concerns taken seriously. Soon after it was built, the place became just another staple in the town.

Despite all the hype, you'd never been inside. You were curious, sure... But for some reason, you hesitated. Most of the time, you were worried about price- but it turns out it was affordable on your budget. Then it was a worry about time, but today that problem didn't exist. You had a day off- and now you had no excuse other than shyness- or stubbornness, you couldn't be sure which.

You stood outside of the doors for several long minutes, debating internally. Finally, after reasoning with yourself that you might as well try it once while you had the money, the time, and the desire to, you pushed open the door.

=-=-=-=-=

You weren't sure what to expect, being escorted to a sleeping nook with your 'designated Rest-Robo companion', a larger robot with yellow and orange markings on their synthetic exterior. After some awkward fumbling of words with the receptionist robot, you had been given this companion as a 'first resting experience' partner. At least they had a procedure for that? This robot was large- though that stood to reason. You were going to be IN there, so...?

There was a small beep as you stopped at a chamber identical to all the others, the door sliding open to reveal a simple room with a cushioned bed and a few decorations inside. The robot stepped aside to allow you in first and you stepped in. The door closed behind them and you stood awkwardly, unsure of what came next.

"Please sit and remove your shoes," the robot spoke, their smooth, calm, and barely-digital voice nothing but reassuring. You obeyed, still confused. The robot sat next to you, offering a smile on their synthetic face. "Do you need a moment or are you ready to rest?" they asked softly.

You paused, looking up at the larger figure nervously. They were so large and you felt rather small, but you knew they were designed for safety. Didn't stop your mind from playing tricks, though. "I'm ready," you replied quietly.

The robot smiled, lowering their larger hands to your sides. "I will take you inside to rest," they spoke with a tone that made you think that it was more of a heads-up than anything else. "Please try not to squirm too hard, I am not rated for roughness," they reminded you gently before their jaws opened above you.

You almost froze up even though you knew it was coming. The safest way to place someone inside was by 'swallowing' them, there was no risk of injury that way. But seeing a huge, yellow maw headed for your face was a little concerning. You winced as the jaws came down over your neck... but the lack of hard teeth and wetness made it feel like your face was against two pillows instead.

Slow, measured swallows began to take you in, drawing you inside the robot carefully. The inside of their mouth and 'throat' were very similar, soft and plush. Apparently there was more cushioning than you thought. You wriggled gently almost as a reflex as their large hands gently pressed your legs together, swallowing you down with practiced, fluid ease. It was a little strange to be handled like this, but it's not like you were uncomfortable. It felt more like you were being fed through a soft tube like one of those old play places from childhood.

Before long, your upper body entered into a larger chamber and you lifted your arms as soon as they were free to steady yourself. The walls were just as plush as the way down- more so, actually. It was soft and warm- you compared it to curling up in a blanket fresh out of the dryer. It was just barely lit inside, just enough for you to see the pillowy yellow chamber made to cradle you in.

Your feet finally passed the jaws of the robot, the last of you being pushed carefully down. You gently turned yourself to get into a comfortable laying position, marveling at the new experience. It was... cozy and soft, a feeling that was... sort of reminiscent of a warm, peaceful evening after a cold day. You were completely encased inside another being, but it was still soothing and gentle.

"Are you comfortable inside?" Their voice was all around you, though you suspected there was a speaker somewhere, "Would you like the lights dimmed?"

You paused for a moment, mulling it over. "I'm comfortable," you answered, nuzzling against the soft interior below your head, "And the light is fine."

"I'm glad to hear that," the robot replied. There was a soft shift around you, apparently the robot was re-balancing themselves on the bed. "I will start a one-hour timer. Have a good rest."

You hummed softly, content to drop the conversation. This was so much more relaxing than you'd anticipated, it was wonderful... Why had you not done this sooner? You were definitely becoming a repeat customer.

#voretober #voretober 2020 #chibi writes a thing #v.ore #soft vore #safe vore #extreme cuddling #half size vore #robot pred #nonbinary pred #gender neutral reader #willing prey #My first attempt at this- wish me luck #i'm gonna need it lol

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Lunar New Year Gift for muckkles!

For @muckkles, I hope you enjoy this!

*****

Pearls Dissolved in Vinegar 

It isn't Wei Ying's fault. Lan Wangji was very firm on this matter.  

When they were young, Wei Ying's habit of flirting with everyone in range had driven Lan Wangji off the wall. When he was gone, Lan Wangji had occasionally thought that he would happily watch Wei Ying flirt with every woman in a hundred li if it meant he were alive.  

When Wei Ying did, in fact, somehow, miraculously, return to him, Wangji didn't doubt for a second that it was a trade well worth making. Which did not stop watching his beloved charm strange women from being extremely irritating.  

Since the Guanyin Temple--since everything had come out in the open--since Wei Ying had become his, his, his--Wei Ying's flirtatious behavior with others had diminished. Not...ended. Not completely.  

Wei Ying was just so friendly. And absurdly trusting of others' intentions, for someone who had been through everything he had, although possibly that was just his self-esteem issues surfacing again, leaving him unsuspecting that his brilliant smile was enough to inspire intent upon his virtue. Whatever shreds of it remained after Lan Wangji's very thorough and very much appreciated campaign to remove it, in any case. Regardless of the reason for his husband's obliviousness, Lan Wangji found that having his beloved did very little to quell the prickles of his jealousy.  

Admittedly, it hurt less. Knowing that Wei Ying was his and any encouragement of others' attention was obliviousness and not intent, the fire that roared within him when anyone else dared to lay appreciative eyes on him was warm and free to be acted upon, not cold and futile and needing to be suppressed with all the Lan self-discipline in his possession.  

Wei Ying yelped as Lan Wangji lifted him bodily from where he was chattering with a fruit-seller--dispensing loquats of all things, which certainly didn't help even if the connection couldn't reasonably be said to be the fruit-seller's fault. He threw his husband over his shoulder and stalked off towards the inn where they were staying for the particular night-hunt they had just completed.  

People gave the two of them askance looks as they passed by, Lan Wangji carrying his husband over his shoulder as though that was a thing people just did, face unreadable to these strangers, Wei Ying keeping up a light chatter of insincere protests and (decidedly not obliviously) flirtatious complaints. No one, however, dared to do anything, perhaps due to their collective or individual reputations, perhaps due to the fact that Wei Ying was really very bad at pretending he wasn't delighted by his husband's outrageous behavior.  

The innkeeper looked for a moment like he might be about to do or say something, but then he hesitated, and when Lan Wangji swept past with Wei Ying, the two of them were not followed.  

Lan Wangji threw Wei Ying down onto the bed as soon as they reached their room, pausing only to close and lock the door behind him.  

"Oof," Wei Ying said as he hit the bed, then pouted in a way that made Lan Wangji want to take his lower lip between his own teeth immediately. "Lan Zhan, what was that? Do you think that just because you're so strong you can manhandle this poor husband as you please? Have you no--mmf!" His disingenuous protests were cut off as Wangji followed his earlier impulse with a kiss that started out as a savage bite before turning softer and more probing, relishing in the wet heat of Wei Ying's mouth and the warm line of his body under him.  

"I can't believe people think I'm the one who's shameless," Wei Ying gasped when Lan Wangji let him breathe again, in what Lan Wangji supposed was the most genuine complaint he had issued since he had physically removed him from the produce stall at the market.  

"Mn," Lan Wangji said noncommittally, nosing his way down Wei Ying's jaw and neck. Wei Ying giggled and gasped, and something in Lan Wangji's chest purred smugly at his ability to draw these sounds from his husband.  

"You scoundrel," Wei Ying said fondly as Lan Wangji temporarily stopped mouthing lasciviously at his collarbones in order to redirect his attention to the ties holding Wei Ying's robes shut. Wei Ying actually disliked it when Lan Wangji destroyed his clothes too often when they were on the road, so Lan Wangji nobly refrained, even when he really wanted to, so that he would have the leeway to do so when he really really wanted to. Ideally, any night passionate enough to result in serious sartorial damage would also be passionate enough that it wouldn't occur to Wei Ying to consider the state of his clothing until the following morning. 

Lan Wangji was not yet ready to rule out that kind of night, but for the moment he was just barely patient enough to manage to get his husband's top off the long way. Fortunately, Wei Ying wore very few layers when the weather meant he could get away with it.  

As soon as Wei Ying's chest was exposed enough, Lan Wangji latched onto his nipple with more teeth than lips, drawing an approving hiss out of his husband as he arched up into it. His other nipple barely had time to feel neglected before Lan Wangji's hand came up to pinch it, twisting viciously.  

"Mean," Wei Ying panted. "My husband is so mean to me!"  

"Mm," Lan Wangji hummed contentedly.  

"So mean," Wei Ying said with a pout that showed off his swollen lip, a sight that set the smug and purring thing in Lan Wangji's chest off all over again. "My husband kidnaps me off the middle of the street and brings me back to his lair to ravish me in the middle of the day!" 

"Mn," Lan Wangji agreed.  

Wei Ying tipped his head back. "Ahh...there's no way for me to get free...I'm completely helpless, my husband is too strong..."  Wei Ying could absolutely have gotten free if he really wanted to. It never failed to give Lan Wangji a thrill that he did not.  

Lan Wangji pulled the ribbon from his head, surging upwards to capture Wei Ying's hands above his head, tying the ribbon around them and to the bed beneath. Wei Ying moved cooperatively underneath him. Lan Wangji kissed him again, harsh and sweet and full of so much love.  

Wangji pulled away for a moment, over Wei Ying's nonverbal protest, to yank Wei Ying's trousers off. He fell back upon his husband immediately, kissing him greedily and groping him enthusiastically.  

"Ahhh, no," Wei Ying sighed huskily, pushing his ass back into Lan Wangji's hand. "No...ah, I'm completely overwhelmed...there's no way I could stand up to the great Hanguang-jun." 

Lan Wangji gave his ass an extra squeeze before releasing the handful of cheek he had captured and bringing his hand center-wards, sinking one finger into Wei Ying's hole as Wei Ying pressed back eagerly into his hand.  

"Ah, ah, my husband is so cruel, he's going to do me without any kind of oil," he said. Lan Wangji wasn't sure whether he intended this as prediction or command, but either way he sounded plenty enthusiastic about it. Wangji obligingly added a second finger, gaining a number of delighted protests of "Mean!" 

Lan Wangji moved on fairly quickly from two fingers to three, and then he was lining himself up and sinking inside in one stroke.  

"Aa-ah!" Wei Ying cried, head thrown back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. Lan Wangji bent down to bite it, teeth sinking in around the protrusive Adam's apple. Wei Ying moaned in pleasure as Lan Wangji thrust roughly inside him. Part of Wangji wanted to nail Wei Ying to the mattress with full force and speed immediately, but he held back for the moment in order to make it last.  

"Lan Zhan, please...ah, ah, so mean," Wei Ying pleaded.  

Lan Wangji sped up a little, his thrusts rocking Wei Ying's body as he once again abandoned his pursuit of covering the entirety of Wei Ying's body with teeth-shaped bruises to grab his face for a frenetic, fantastic kiss.  

If Lan Wangji were truly trying to do so, he could have held out for hours. But right now he had other concerns, such as staking his claim on Wei Ying's body in every way possible, including a few that were slightly implausible. When he finally came, after fucking his husband to orgasm three times in a row, he simply lay there, head on Wei Ying, reveling in the feeling and the smell and the sheer ecstatic knowledge of him.  

"Not that I'm complaining," Wei Ying said, serious this time, "but what was the reason behind this little interlude?" Lan Wangji buried his face in one of Wei Ying's shoulders, savoring the cozy connection and marshalling his words. 

"The fruit seller," he said.  

"The one I was talking to when you grabbed me? What about her?" 

"She was flirting with you."  

Wei Ying broke into peals of laughter. Lan Wangji would have been more concerned by the possibility that Wei Ying was laughing at him if it wasn't such an incredibly beautiful sound.  

"Ah, Lan Zhan, I'm a handsome man," Wei Ying teased. "I can't help it if I attract a few admirers."  Objectively true. And yet.  

"Mine," Lan Wangji said firmly.  

"All yours," Wei Ying agreed softly, and the two settled in for a good long snuggle.  

#muckkles #wangxianLNY21 #*LNYfic21 #*LNYgifts21

[thewritewolf]

Breaking the Ice

Summary: The gang's plan to spend a week in an Alpine lodge hits a snag when, unbeknownst to Alya and Nino, Marinette and Adrien find out each other's identities. Now it's up to Alya, the power of love, and a freak snowstorm to push past the awkwardness and break the ice.

Hello and welcome to this very special birthday fic that has been three months or so in the making! Sadly Over's birthday came right at the height of me being swamped with the monthly prompts. But I got there eventually! Happy (very) belated birthday, @overworkedunderwhelmed!

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The kilometers rolled past, putting them farther and farther away from their homes in Paris. Despite the promise of a cozy cabin in the Alpine woods waiting for them in the not-so-distant future, the mood in the car wasn’t the full and bubbling excitement that Alya had hoped for.

Most of the conversation had been driven by her and Nino, whether it be jamming out to his mix tapes or just talking about recent events. Not that there was much conversation going on right now - a four hour long car ride was enough to take it out of anyone. But for the entire car ride Alya was grinding her teeth at Adrien and Marinette’s seemingly stubborn refusal to talk to each other.

It had been almost a month since everything changed, their last weeks before they graduated from lycee and were set out into the great wide world. For the last year they’d been planning this - going out to Nino’s uncle’s cabin and spending a week hanging out. Just like old times, in case life conspired to keep them apart. After all, while they had resolved to stay in touch and meet regularly, who could really say for sure when they were all going to different universities?

Marinette had even gotten over her insecurity and babbling around Adrien! They had become great friends over the years, but then… something happened and they were back to square one. Except now it was even worse because not only was Marinette a mess, so was Adrien! They could barely make eye contact before looking away, blushing like school kids. Which they technically weren’t any more!

It was disgustingly cute, but also incredibly frustrating. Alya had thought that she had put all of this stuff behind her years ago, even if she was always hoping they’d still end up getting together.

Smiling mirthlessly, Alya stared ahead as the cabin rolled into view. It had been a while since she’d meddled in Marinette’s love life, but it seemed that if they were going back to their old ways, so should she. A plan began to come together…

Hopefully the weather would cooperate.

---------------

Nino watched the girls head inside with the bare essentials, leaving him and Adrien out here to get the rest while they got everything turned on. He turned around in his seat to look at Adrien as he stretched in the back.

“So, how are you feelin’ from that long ride, bro?”

“Not too hot. And not just because of the time in the car,” Adrien said with a shiver. “I knew it was going to be cold, but still.”

Nino snorted. “Well, maybe getting up off your rich kid butt and helping me out here will warm you up.”

“If you say so, my oh so worldly best bro.” The two of them chuckled as Adrien got out of the car.

While they were only staying there for a week, they packed plenty so that they wouldn’t need to make any unnecessary trips to the nearby town. It was good in theory but it did mean that it took multiple trips to get all the suitcases and bags and coolers.

Plenty of time to chat up his best bud.

“So what’s up with you, dude?” Nino picked up a suitcase for each hand. “Decided on what you’re going to university for yet?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Adrien said, rolling his eyes. “Father still wants me to go into business.”

“Yeah but I didn’t ask what daddio wanted, did I?”

Adrien sighed. “I’m not entirely sure. I like the idea of becoming a teacher.”

“You’ve tots got the patience for it.” Nino grinned. “You’re almost as chill a dude as I am.”

“As long as someone doesn’t try to mess with your playlists or take over the radio.”

“Driver alone gets that kinda power dude,” Nino said, a solemn air to his words. “You can’t just let anyone go messin’ with that stuff.”

“Uh huh.” Adrien smirked and hefted a cooler by himself. The dude was stronger than he looked. Maybe all that modeling came with some perks besides the obvious? “My other plan is maybe just…” Adrien seemed a little embarrassed. “...starting a flower shop.”

“...A flower shop?”

“Or something like that! Just a little business of my own that has nothing to do with fashion. Where people can’t say that I was only put there because of my father’s connections or whatever.”

“Flowers, huh?” Nino tapped at his chin, smiling. “Lemme guess - does this have something to do with a certain pigtailed friend of ours?”

“I- That’s not- No!”

“How are you two doing anyway, bro? Me and Al have been supes curious about what went down between you two.”

“What about that movie script you were working on?” Adrien said. “You were pretty far along the last time we talked about it. Did you work out the last few kinks yet?”

Nino could recognize such an obvious change of topic when he saw one, but he didn’t have the single-minded drive of his girlfriend and let it slide without comment. Besides, he could use Adrien’s help in talking out some of the more difficult parts of the movie’s plot.

An hour later, just as they’d finished bringing in their stuff and Nino got a good sense of how he wanted his story to go, he looked up at the sky and frowned when he saw the dark clouds and the flurry of snowflakes already coming down.

Nino closed the garage with the car in it and was thankful that they had already brought in plenty of firewood along with the suitcases. It looked like tonight was going to get chilly.

------------------

The four of them had already arrived fairly late into the day, so by the time they had gotten settled in, the sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. The light was made even dimmer by the snowstorm raging outside, its chill only barely pushed back by the roaring fireplace that they were huddled around.

There were two loveseats in the cabin and when Alya and Nino had taken one, that naturally left the other for him and Marinette. Each pair wrapped up in blankets to keep the cold out and to keep the shared warmth in.

Of course, they had more than fire to keep themselves warm, Adrien thought as he nonchalantly glanced to his side, toward the woman that was always at his side. Even if he hadn’t known just how true that was until a month ago. Was it good fortune that had made this partner and love interest one of his closest friends outside the mask? Or was it terrible luck, since they had barely managed to spare two sentences for each other ever since they found out?

Adrien was almost sure that there was a conversation going on, but for the life of him he couldn’t hear it over his pounding heart. Sitting there still as a statue, he was hoping that no one would notice his current state of distress, praying that he could make it through this week in one piece.

His prayers were immediately not answered since Marinette was slowly but inevitably closing the distance between them. Was it because of the cold? Or was there something else at play here? Either way, his lack of a response - or, at least, him not stopping her - seemed to give her courage as she got ever closer.

Which would be enough for his poor heart to handle on its own if it weren’t for the fact that once she was about as close as she could get without sitting on his lap, the back of her hand brushed against the back of his. It was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He redoubled his efforts to pay attention to the conversation just as it seemed to be ending.

Nino yawned and stretched, raising his arms above the warm confines of his blanket as he did so.

“Well, dudes, looks like I’m gonna pack it in for tonight. All that driving really took it outta me.”

“I’ll probably head to bed too,” Alya said. “The faster I’m under a warm set of sheets, the better.”

“Right. So we’ll be heading to our room now.”

Adrien had a sinking feeling with how they said that and he realized that there was one critical question he had never gotten around to asking during all the time that they had been planning this trip:

“Where is my room?”

“Oh, don’t worry, you and M will have the room just down the hall from us!” ALya said with a grin, her head poking around the corner just before disappearing behind it. “Nighty night!” She shouted once she was out of view.

Adrien’s mouth went dry and he stared at the roaring fireplace for a long moment before turning to look at Marinette, who seemed equally scandalized. With an apologetic shrug and a half grin, he stood up on shaky legs and made his way toward their apparently shared room.

------------------

Marinette wasn’t sure how much time had passed, since they had awkwardly crawled into bed and rolled over onto their sides, facing away from each other. The room was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the fire in the other room and the howling winds of the snowstorm outside. Darkness had long since crept in, leaving the room a mess of dark shapes and shadows that moved ever so slightly thanks to the faint, flickering light of the fire coming out from below the bottom of their door. Even with her eyes adjusted to the dark, she couldn’t see much beyond a few inches in front of her face.

The quiet left her plenty of time to think. Did she move too fast by getting so close to him in front of the fire? She was still a little mad at Alya for trying to force things along like always. She and Adrien were just… going through something right now. They’d get there in their own time!

...Then again, it had already been a month without any progress. Maybe Alya had handed her a golden opportunity. Was he even still awake? Marinette was the stage of tired where she could feel the exhaustion but knew she would never be able to sleep. Least of all with Adrien right there.

With nothing else to do, she decided to take a chance and roll over. It seemed that the years of fighting alongside one another had put them in sync since he rolled over at exactly the same time. They suddenly found themselves face to face, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her.

“Hey,” she said, sounding lame to her own ears.

“Hey, he said back.

Marinette bit her lip and tried to find the right words to say. Her thoughts were all mixed up and she struggled to make the first move.

“I love you,” Adrien blurted out. His cheeks blushed so fiercely she could almost believe they were glowing. It certainly helped her see him in a new light.

Her eyes soften and she smiles. She scoots closer to him.

“I love you too.”

Slowly and hesitantly, fearful that the spell might be broken and this would all prove just a dream, she leaned forward the final few centimeters between them and pressed her lips to his.

Outside, the storm raged on. But inside, cuddled close together through the night, they stayed warm.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Cesaire #DJ Wifi #ml fanfiction #my writing #Breaking the Ice